


And No Two Directions Are Ever the Same

by tcs1121



Series: Twists and Turns 'Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcs1121/pseuds/tcs1121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place immediately after the events in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/310982">Twists and Turns</a><br/>i.e.  Wednesday morning (after the night of the first ceramics class ).</p>
            </blockquote>





	And No Two Directions Are Ever the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'ed by my very dear friend [kkgee](http://kkgee.livejournal.com). With her cool hand and keen eye, she helped me write the story I wanted to tell. I love her more than just a little bit.
> 
> A/N 1: Original prompt for _Twists and Turns_ provided by [roque clasique](http://roque_clasique.livejournal.com) over at the [H/C RPF Meme](http://community.livejournal.com/spn_hurtcomfort/222308.html?page=1#comments). It would be best to read _Twists and Turns_ first.
> 
> Disclaimer: Taking liberties with reality for the sake of fiction. Untrue story. Untrue people. Story and characters are, and continue to be, a figment of my imagination with no harm intended.

  


 

~~*~~*~~

_The road of life twists and turns and no two directions are ever the same. Yet our lessons come from the journey, not the destination._

_Don Williams, Jr._

~~*~~*~~  
_**One**_  
~~*~~*~~

There was no awkward morning after because there was no morning after. Jensen woke with the echo of last night's pain thrumming through his body, but it was only a reminder. He was fuzzy but functional, hungry and in need of coffee. A note sat on the table in Jensen's small kitchen.

_See you Thursday. You promised. Take a cab?_

Jensen fingered through the catalog of night classes and idly wondered if it was too late to drop this whole ceramics thing and sign up for the cartooning class. He read Jared's note again.

"Oh, hell." He threw the class schedule in the trash. Even though Jensen had only one working arm, and it was pretty goddamn tough to create pottery that way, he decided to suffer through it, because _damn_ that shaggy-haired wheel-throwing teacher was fine...

~~*~~*~~

Jensen showed up, as promised, for Thursday's class. He wore his black, snug-fitting sling that held his arm crooked at the elbow and close to his body. The pain from the episode two nights ago was gone, but the fear of jostling the arm won out over explaining the sling. He was going to tell his classmates anyway, so it was fine.

"Okay boy and girls, we're good to go." Jared smiled wide and happy as Jensen entered the room. "And, man, basic black is definitely your color."

"Hey, what happened to you?" Allie asked, eying the sling.

"My old softball injury's acting up." Jensen didn't even have to lie about it. "And the professor here," Jensen indicated Jared with a smile as he sat at his potter's wheel, "Said something about making 'reasonable accommodations.'" He used a one-handed version of air quotes.

Jared gave a nervous little laugh, and Jensen wondered if he'd said anything wrong, then the dimples came out in full force.

"You are right, I'm all about accommodations. I am absolutely, positively the guy to give you a hand. Or two." He held both hands up in the classic gloved surgeon’s pose. "Now students, pass your cell phones to the front of the class so I can program my number into them. That way, if you're going to be out or whatever, you can get in touch with me."

"That's a classy move, teach," Allie said approvingly. "Almost slick."

"Yes, I thought so, too," Jared agreed, smiling.

Jensen chuckled, as he dug his phone out of his back pocket.

"My contact name is Pads, because I'm pretty sure keying in the whole name, Padalecki, would make your phones cry."

When Jensen handed Jared his phone, Jared reached into his own back pocket and handed his to Jensen. "Quid pro quo, Clarice," he growled.

Jensen rolled his eyes, took Jared's phone and awkwardly keyed in his number.

Jared looked across the room and winked at Allie as he raised his phone in triumph.

He pocketed it and said, "Hey, man, it's good you're here. I'm glad you're a guy who keeps his promises." Then in a lower voice, "How you doin' today?"

"Good. I'm good."

"Good."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Okay!" Jared stood tall and clapped his hands twice. "You know the drill. Rings, watches, jewelry, yadda yadda. Ladies, tie your hair back, and that includes me." Jared pulled a black bandanna with smiling yellow and green bananas emblazoned on it out of his jeans pocket. Today, instead of gold hoops, he had little shiny silver studs glistening down his right ear. "And you," he pointed at Jensen. "You're just fine the way you are, 'cause you rock that buzz cut, but if you want to borrow one of mine so you won't feel left out?" With a flourish, Jared pulled a bandanna with Scooby-doo faces all over it out of his sleeve and waved it at Jensen.

Jensen raised an eyebrow. "You carry a Scooby-doo bandanna up your sleeve all the time?"

Jared cocked his head. "Well, yeah."

"Then, no," Jensen said. "Never mind. No bandanna. No."

Jared smiled. "Suit yourself."

He raised his voice for the class. "This is how it's going to work. I'll be using Jensen's wheel and he'll be using my right arm. It's only fair." Jared plunked three balls of clay on the three wheels. He pulled up his stool and sat opposite Jensen. "We're going to start by centering the clay like we did on Tuesday."

Jared flipped the switch on Jensen's potter's wheel and said, "Follow my lead. We're both using our dominant arms for shaping the clay—your left hand will be working with my right—so my left will be the stabilizing hand."

"Okay," Jensen said as he held out his left hand.

Jared took Jensen's hand in his and smiled up from under his bangs. "We're about to make beautiful history together."

~~*~~*~~

Class was over and cleanup was completed. Sophie waved good-bye, and Allie blew a kiss, "See you next Tuesday!"

Jared leaned against the door-frame of his classroom watching Jensen mop up the last of the wet clay from their table. "Did you take a cab?" Jared asked casually.

"Yes, I took a cab." He wadded a paper towel with his left hand to dry it and lobbed it into the wastebasket. "So, can you give me a ride home?"

"Um, let me think about it yes, yes, and yes." Jared sagged against the door and blew out a breath. "Jeez, Jensen, I'm glad you showed up tonight. I was nervous that maybe I did or said something wrong the other night. Like there was something I was supposed to do. Or that I did something that I shouldn't have done. You know, some unwritten rule, or pain protocol I didn't know about."

Jensen blinked.

"Shit." Jared shook his head. "Jensen, there are so many ways I can fuck this up and I don't want to. Give me a thousand chances at least, because I'm really smart, but I'm really stupid, too. I don't have a filter and my mouth just says stuff. I mean 'unwritten rule?' What does that mean? What am I thinking?"

Jensen made a "stop" motion with his hand. "Jared. Listen and quit fidgeting. You've got it wrong. I want to thank _you_ for helping _me_ out the other night. I almost always get some kind of warning, so I was caught off guard when the pain hit that fast. The way that went down Tuesday night was unusual, but it's even more unusual having someone there to help out."

"Yeah?" Jared relaxed.

"Yeah." Jensen grinned shyly. "More than unusual. In fact, I don't remember the last time anyone actually _was_ there to help. And, well, you were great. Thank you for not freaking out and for sticking it out with me. Just, thank you."

Jared beamed a smile and stood to his full height. "You're welcome." He opened his arms and took a step forward.

Jensen tensed up and Jared must have noticed because instead of the bear hug he was expecting, Jared's knuckles stroked the side of his face, and brushed up into his hair.

"Date me."

Jensen laughed. "What?"

"Let's date. Let's go on a date. When can we go on one?"

"Well, what are you doing tomorrow?"

"Well, on Fridays, I have classes at the State University at Regency Park. Afternoon and evening. What are you doing on Saturday?"

"I work Saturday morning," Jensen said.

"What do you do?"

"If I tell you everything now we won't have anything to talk about on our date, will we?"

"So you will? You'll date me? We're dating? That's awesome." Jared wiped his palms against his jeans. "Let's start right now. I'm driving. I'm buying. It's official. We're on a date."

"Jared, it's 9:15 at night on a Thursday."

"I didn't say it would be a good first date, but there's a coffee shop with couches and WiFi and crazy little pastries that are really expensive, so let's see." Jared squinted as he held up his fingers. "The pastries, with the Grande Mocha Latte and a couple of biscotti..." Jared did the air math with his index finger and grinned. "That should add up to a real date."

~~*~~*~~

Jared was wrong. It turned out to be a very good first date.

The sling made Jensen's arm uncomfortably warm, but kept it firmly anchored so it wouldn't get jostled or tangled. Jensen knew the effect the sling had on people around him. It made them curious, careful, and nervous. Some people were reluctant to look at him, afraid to be caught staring.

Not Jared. In fact, Jared seemed relieved when he saw both Jensen and the sling walk into class tonight. It made Jensen's heart do a funny little thing in his chest.

"So, what do you do on Saturday mornings?" Jared licked the whipped cream floating on top of his drink.

"I work at a garden supply store and nursery. _The Green Grower_. Hey, don't look so surprised." Jensen grinned, reaching for his mug.

"It's not, well, what I was expecting with, you know with...you know..." Jared waved his hand in the air.

Jensen smiled into his latte, and kept his eyes down. "I used to own the business. I worked in the dirt starting as a preteen mowing lawns and trimming hedges for the summer. Then I worked with a real landscaping company and decided that I liked making things grow, making people's homes and gardens look nice, working the land in my own urban way, and I love the outdoors. I got a business degree, minored in botany, scraped together enough to get a loan, and bought my own garden store. I did some landscaping as well. After the accident, I couldn't do the physical stuff, so I sold the store to a friend of mine and I help out part-time with ordering supplies, tracking shipments, and anticipating the "next big thing" in gardening."

Jensen couldn't quite look up at Jared yet. "It works out pretty well for me since I can't work a regular full-time job. I don't have the stamina and I never know how I'm going to be doing. You know?"

Now he looked Jared in the eye and continued, "But it's okay, I get to see that the place is running, I get to see my buddy Chris, and his wife Charlotte, regularly. Plus, I get to keep a hand in the nursery business." He held his left hand up. "Literally."

Jared gazed at Jensen before he smiled and said, "You are so awesome."

Jensen sipped his fancy coffee. "So, why ceramics?"

"I already gave that speech in class," Jared laughed. "But, seriously? I like the idea that the way I'm throwing clay now is similar to the way primitive man and Renaissance man made pottery and created art. And in a small way," he held his thumb and forefinger apart, "a very small way, it ties _me_ to them. It gives me a sense of history, a feeling of belonging, and of being—timeless. I think it's cool." He blushed and looked at Jensen over what was left in his cup. "You can call me a dork now if you want."

Jensen paused, smiling at his date. "No, I _don't_ want. I don't know what to call you right now, but 'dork' isn't the word. It isn't even close."

"Ohh." Jared was still blushing, but he grinned and said, "Let me guess then. Was it, 'smokin' hot stud?' or 'you so tall, dark and sexy?' or 'Please take me home and get me naked, Jared.'?"

Jensen laughed, put his empty mug on the little bistro table, and lounged back in his chair. "You know, Jared, someday, just for something different, it might be kind of fun to try and _guess_ what you're thinking." He raised a hand. "Just putting it out there."

"Ahh, what fun would that be?" Jared waved away that thought. "Besides, with all the action I'm _not_ getting from you, I really thought I wasn't making myself clear."

"You didn't think you were making yourself clear?" Jensen asked incredulously.

"Well, sometimes the message I'm trying to impart gets lost in all the words I'm using."

"No kidding?" Jensen asked in mock seriousness.

"I know."

Jensen leaned forward smiling sweetly. "Jared?"

"Yeah?"

"You may have been right, before."

"I was?" Jared sounded breathless. "Really? Which part? The 'take me home and get me naked' part?"

"No." Jensen shook his head slowly. "Turns out you really are a giant dork."

A slow smile creased Jared's lips until he threw his had back and laughed.

~~*~~*~~  
**_Two_**  
~~*~~*~~

Jensen answered his phone late Friday afternoon. He'd barely hit the "accept" button when Jared's voice came barreling through the static in long, breathless sentences. "Can you come to the University tomorrow, Saturday afternoon, after work, your work, I'll pick you up? Text me where you work, there's somebody there I want you to meet, tomorrow?"

"The University?" Jensen backtracked through all the words and picked that one out.

"Yes," Jared answered. "Saturday. Afternoon. Tomorrow?"

"Should I be nervous?"

"Oh, no." Jared said, his cell reception dropping in and out. "I'm hoping you'll get to meet someone, and I need to tell you some stuff. Hey, maybe I'm the one who should be nervous."

Jensen's phone crackled and Jared's voice disappeared.

~~*~~*~~

Jared's Cherokee pulled up to _The Green Grower_ at noon thirty on Saturday afternoon. Jensen sat in a green plastic lawn chair as the Jeep swung into a nearby parking spot. He hadn't slept well that night, and even a deep breath made Jensen's shoulder ache. He had the sling on tight, and hoped the extra Flexoril and the second 800 mg dose of Motrin worked better than the first. But Jensen knew that if he stopped doing things every time he was uncomfortable, he'd never do anything but sit at home with the TV on mute.

Going out with Jared was better than that. Way better than that, and Jensen decided to try the best he could to keep this going.

Jared jumped out of the Jeep and looked up and down at the spring plants and flowers displayed by the sidewalk. There were juniper and azalea bushes alongside the rose bushes laying against the wooden fence, all with their roots bound, ready for planting. Stone pavers led to the big front door of _The Green Grower_.

"Wow, these are orange." Jared said looking over an array of exotic begonias. "Actually, more like coral. I've never seen them that color. That's really neat."

Jensen smiled warmly. "Thanks."

Jared rounded the front of Jeep to wrestle with his car to get the passenger door open.

"Okay, Jensen, I think she's ready for you." Jared indicated the open passenger-side door. As Jensen slowly got to his feet, Jared watched with concern and looked like he was ready to say something when Chris came out to the curb.

"Hey, man. You're Jared, right?"

Jensen took the cue. "Jared, this is Chris. Chris Kane, this is Jared Padalecki. Make nice."

"I always make nice." Chris was lean, tanned and strong. He wiped a sweaty strand of hair away from his eyes, took off his work glove and extended his hand. "Good to meet you."

Jared smiled and shook. "Same here." Jared looked around expansively. "You guys have a great place."

"Thanks. We like it," Chris said. "And thanks for the other day. Helping Jen out."

Jared smirked at Jensen, "Jen?"

"Shut up, Jared." Jensen sent an imploring look to his friend. "You, too. Shut up, Chris."

Chris was nonplussed. "I'm glad you were there, Jared. In my book, there can't be too many things worse than suffering like that all alone, although Jen here would never admit it. So, thanks again. From both me and him."

Jensen was embarrassed, but Jared smiled. "No problem."

Chris gave a mock salute and went back inside.

Jared turned to Jensen. "He's nice. I like him." Then in a lower voice, "Are you okay? We don't have to do this."

"I'm good."

Jared looked unconvinced.

"Didn't sleep much last night, but that's nothing new. I really do want to see what you have up your sleeve besides a Scooby-doo bandanna."

Jensen climbed into the Jeep, and Jared slammed the door behind him.

"Let me know if it gets to be too much. If _I_ get to be too much. You need to let me know. I never know. I might not be able to change, but I might be able to take it down a notch." He looked meaningfully at Jensen. "I want to know."

"Okay, I'll let you know. I mean, good God, you've already seen me at _my_ worst, and here _you_ still are."

Jared grinned. "Here we both still are."

~~*~~*~~

For a Saturday afternoon during spring semester, the campus was busier than Jensen expected. Jared gripped Jensen's wrist to help him from the car, and casually tangled their fingers together. Jensen sighed and looked at Jared's almost-guilty face.

"Aw, come on," Jared complained. "This counts as a second date. I get to hold your hand."

"Okay, you're right. It's a second date, so you do," Jensen said, tightening his grip. "But don't get the idea that I'm easy."

"Opening the damn door to my car is easier than you," Jared muttered into Jensen's ear.

They were walking on the campus mall when a voice called out, "Doctor Jay! Yo, Doctor Jay!"

Jensen wasn't surprised by the nickname. After all at 6'4", large hands, long legs, and the overwhelming urge to constantly jump up and down, Jared must be very successful at college basketball.

"Hey, Zac, what's up, my man? Getting in some studying on a Saturday?" Jared gently disentangled his fingers from Jensen's and high-fived the kid.

"As if you didn't know. Your quizzes are wicked, your exams should be salted and burned, and your orals are downright evil, I've yet to ace _any_ of them. I stuck pins and chanted over your last study guide, just so you know."

"Well to paraphrase Heywood Broun, 'The tragedy of life is not that Zac fails AH 304, but that he _almost_ gets an A.'"

"Yeah, and for this section on ancient artifacts? Dude, if you weren't The Master, and if you didn't make this class rock so hard, I'd have to kill you in your sleep."

"Hey, thanks Zac. You've always been my favorite. And since you're my favorite," Jared looked side to side before whispering, "Think waay back. Think Pompeii back. Then think back some more."

"Got it. 0000AD."

"Or before," Jared nodded sincerely.

Zac huffed. "Thanks for nothing. Killing you in your sleep may be my only option."

"Understood. And that's why I wear a wire 24/7. You'll be _so_ busted when my bloated body finally floats to the surface."

Zac turned to Jensen. "I hope he's nicer to the ones he likes than to those of us he scrapes off his shoe."

"God, I hope so, too." Jensen said, nodding vigorously.

Zac smiled and looked up and down at both Jared and Jensen. "Have a good one Dr. Pads."

"Always, Zac."

Zac walked away, and for the first time ever, Jared was silent. When Jensen looked over, Jared was chewing on his lower lip.

"So, Dr. Pads," Jensen said bumping against Jared's shoulder. "What haven't you told me about yourself?"

"What haven't I told you? I mean where should I start? There are so many _interesting_ things about me."

"Good. Then start by telling me _one_ interesting thing," Jensen urged.

Jared lowered his voice conspiratorially, "Okay. I was a thumb sucker until I was twelve. I mean, until I was twelve!" Jared looked into Jensen's eyes; the picture of twelve year old innocence. "No lie. It took me getting my tongue pierced to quit." He stuck his tongue out at Jensen and showed him the white scar of a former piercing.

Jensen, the picture of thirty-two year old patience, said, "Gee. Wow. The tongue thing? That was a nice try at a diversion. Especially since I'm trying to figure out who'd pierce a twelve year-old's tongue."

"I was tall for my age. So, you want another interesting fact?" Jared tapped his finger on his nose. "Let’s see, oh, I know how to make pottery." Jared smiled showing two rows of bright white teeth.

"How about something I don't know?"

"Okay, yeah, so I made Eagle Scout two and a half years after I quit sucking my thumb. I speak a little French, but I'm fluent in Spanish and Farsi, and God, Jensen, would it bother you to know that I'm kind of smart?"

Jensen gave a guarded smile. "I don't know. What kind of smart are we talking?"

Jared looked vaguely ill. "Well, smart enough that I have a Bachelor’s Degree in Art, a Master's in Ancient History, and a PhD in Archeology. I'm a full professor, and one of the youngest department heads ever at this University."

"You are?" Jensen was stunned. "I mean, really?"

"And I can read and write in Latin."

"Latin?" Jensen stared at Jared, waiting for the punch line. After several moments, Jared finally shrugged.

"Jared? You're not kidding? You're serious?"

"Yeah. I..." Jared cleared his throat. "I started early."

Jensen blinked. "Wow. Holy shit, man. That's awesome."

Jared lit up at that. "Yeah?"

Jensen smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

Jared's power of speech gathered speed. "I'm a Research Archeologist and it's possible that a lot of people in the field know my name because I've published a lot of articles."

"No way." Jensen was impressed. "From thumb sucker to published academic?"

Jared's whole face grinned. "Yeah, something like that."

"You're right. You _are_ interesting. Who knew?" Jensen laughed. "Do you go on digs?"

"Hell yeah, I go on digs." Jared was smiling all over himself now. "In fact, after spring semester and our pottery class is over," he smiled fondly, "I'm going to Jamestown, Virginia for four weeks. I have a joint contract with William and Mary and the National Park Service to conduct the dig at a recently discovered colonial fort there. Cool, huh?"

"Way cool," Jensen agreed.

Jared's dam of reticence had broken.

"After that, I plan to head over to St. Mary's City, Maryland for three weeks. There's an ongoing excavation of a 17th century village right at the point of the Potomac River and the Chesapeake Bay. I know most of the crew, and a couple of other guys I know will be flying in around that time. If I have time after that, before fall semester and Ceramics 202—that I already signed you up for—starts, I'm going to head up to Annapolis. Believe it or not, there's still excavating going on there, right downtown! I'm writing an essay, _Current Findings of Colonial America_ , that I'll be editing for publication in _American Archaeology Magazine_ , but you want to know the very coolest thing?"

"Absolutely," Jensen said.

"Next year, starting in May—I'll have to get a sub to end the semester, but that's okay because it's mostly review work for the finals—I'm taking a team to a dig site in Northumberland, England for four months. My department is collaborating with the University of Oxford and The Bamburgh Research Project to film a documentary that will tie in with an important treatise I'm writing on _Comparative Cultures and the Fusion of..._ " Jared stopped. With a stricken look he said, "Jesus, Jensen, make me shut up."

"No, no way." Jensen shook his head, smiling. "A documentary? No shit? You're filming a documentary? That really is awesome. In fact, that's the coolest thing I've ever heard anyone doing _ever_. You just keep surprising me, man. I mean, I've never even _met_ anyone who's filmed a documentary."

"Yeah?" Jared appeared relieved and happy. "Well, you have now."

"Hey," Jensen pointed to Jared's head. "Do you wear a Fedora and carry a whip, too?"

"I will if you want me to." Jared smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Very awesome." Jensen laughed. "Wow, Jared. Just. Wow."

"You really like this about me?" Jared asked.

"Are you kidding? You might actually be the most _interesting_ person I've ever met." Jensen smiled brightly. "Why would you think I wouldn't like it?"

Jared's smile faded several watts before he said, "My work keeps me pretty busy. It seems I finish one project and I'm on to the next. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do, but I miss out on things. Like, for my whole life I've wanted a dog, but it wouldn't be fair to get one because I'm away from home a lot."

"Yeah, that is tough." Jensen knew how he felt.

"Plus," Jared took a deep breath. "I had a boyfriend once, and I really liked him. Kind of really loved him, actually. _He_ didn't think it was very awesome that I was busy, and traveled so much, and was...so smart."

"Really?" Jensen wrapped his head around that. "I mean, _really_?"

"Yeah." Jared nodded and looked down. "He preferred the Dork me over the Doctor me. So, yeah."

"What an asshole," Jensen said. "And good riddance to him. Jared, I can't believe you've done so much with your life already. You're still young and look at you, making magic all over the place. Like – abracadabra!" Jensen gestured dramatically. "Magic."

Jensen was genuinely proud of him. Jared was very accomplished, but it had cost him. Jensen realized now why Jared looked nervous when he called him "professor" in class the other day. Jared didn't know how Jensen would react when he found out that Jared the "Pottery Guy" was actually Dr. Jared Padalecki, PhD.

Jared looked up in utter relief. "Magic, huh? You think so?"

"Yeah, I think so. My God, Jared, look at you. You're on the runway itching to fly."

"Thanks," said Jared.

Jensen raised his eyebrows. "For what?"

"Just, thanks."

"Well, then," Jensen took a breath. "There can't possibly be any more _interesting_ things to tell me, right?"

Jared's eyes shone with mischief as he scuffed his sneaker into the dirt. "Well, there is one more thing." He turned away from Jensen and looked down the quad.

"You're kidding, right? You've got to be kidding."

"No, it's just," Jared crinkled his nose. "That I may or may not have kissed you after you zonked out the other night."

Jensen's heartbeat kicked up a beat or two. "May or may _not_ have? What, you don't remember?"

"I did. Alright? I kissed you when you were unable to fend off my lip attack."

"Really?" Jensen stepped closer. "You kissed me?"

Jared lowered his head and moved his face closer.

"Yes, and it might have been like this." He kissed Jensen squarely on the college campus mall. "Or like this." With a little more tongue. "But it was probably like this." Jared planted slow wet kisses down the side of Jensen's face and neck.

Jensen bared his neck to the side, "Taking advantage of me in my weakened state, hmm?"

"Um hum," Jared agreed as he worked his way back to Jensen's lips. "I'm a bad person."

"It’s a shame that I don't remember," Jensen's voice shivered. "I might've liked it."

Jared stood straight and looked down into Jensen's eyes. "Good, because I know I liked it." He took Jensen's hand and pulled him close. "So." He leaned down to nuzzle Jensen's ear. "Anything else you want to know?"

"An Eagle Scout?" Jensen asked in a whisper. "How did you pull that off?"

"Simple." Jared's lips were a breath away from Jensen's. "Don't ask, don't tell."

Jensen sputtered, coughing as he laughed. "Okay, okay, you win."

"So, let me tell you why I asked you to come here today." Jared quick kissed his temple and nudged them both along the path that led to the admin building on the east side of the campus.

"I thought it was to come clean about your embarrassingly big brain." Jensen fell in step beside him.

Jared smiled and touched his phone to deliver a text. "Well, that too." Several seconds later, an answering tone replied.

"We're all set to see Misha upstairs," Jared said, pocketing his phone. He's an administrator-type friend of mine."

"Why are we meeting with him? Does this have something to do with your schedule for next year?"

"No, it's not about me. I know I should have checked with you first, but I literally bumped into him between classes yesterday. Powdered sugar in my hair and everything. Anyway, Misha's a pretty busy guy, and we didn't get to talk long. He said he'd be working today, so I asked him, if he had time, to look into some things for me—for you."

"For me?" Jensen asked.

Jared nodded. "For you."

The pounding of walking up three flights of stairs made Jensen wince. Chronic pain was exhausting. Made it easy to be tired and cranky.

Misha Collins, as the nameplate on his desk read, was just hanging up the phone when Jared knocked on the frame of the open door. "Come in, welcome. Jensen Ackles, right? Misha Collins. Jared's told me about you."

"He has?"

"Yes." Misha stood and extended his right hand.

"I guess not enough, though." Jensen smiled politely as he extended his left to Misha.

Misha deftly rearranged hands and shook with his left. "Not really. It was a quick encounter between classes. I'm still trying to get the jelly stains out of my tie."

Misha turned to Jared. "Jay, I'm glad you came up. Will you have time to meet with me sometime today to go over the candidates for peer review for Marie Vesti's panel?"

Jared shook his head. "I'm off the clock now, man, but I promise I'll get back to you on Monday morning. I already have some comments written and approvals shouldn't be a problem."

"Oh, good. Good." Misha wrote a note on his desk calendar. He turned to Jensen and smiled. "So, okay."

"Okay." Jensen looked from Misha's smiling face to Jared's increasingly nervous one. "Jared's mentioned me. That's good, right?"

"It is. Please have a seat."

Jensen sat in the chair in front of Misha’s desk while Jared wandered to the back of the office.

Misha spoke without preamble. "From the little I gathered, you love the soil, Mother Earth and growing, flowering things, but you can't do it anymore because you can't. Jared couldn't go into why but now I see you can't."

Misha glanced at Jensen's snugly tucked right arm, and his pale, crooked fingers.

"That's right, I can't." He turned. "Jared, what's this about?"

Jared blanched a little as Misha continued.

"You can still make a living—and continue your ministry to God, nature, and the land —by working with the Earth," Misha said. "This university offers a degree in Landscape Architecture as well as advanced degrees in the botanical sciences. You don't have to be able-bodied..."

"Misha, lighten up on that, okay?" Jared stepped forward.

"You don't have to be," Misha looked at Jensen, "non-physically challenged? Is that better? To complete a course of study, and earn one or even several degrees.

"According to Jared, you already have a college degree, so academically there shouldn't be a problem with admittance, plus, there is financial help available for disabled students."

"Misha, please." Jared ran his hands through his hair. "I don't know if Jensen is ready to..."

"Jared, wait." Jensen put his hand up and turned to Misha. "You're talking about me going back to school?"

"Well, yes. If that's something you want to pursue, for now or in the future." Misha nodded once. "We'll work with you if, for example, you need an extended schedule because you are unable to handle a full load of classes. There are accommodations and supports we can put in place to assist disabled students earn their degrees. And as I said, financial help is available if you have documentation supporting that you are legitimately disabled."

"Misha, stop. Jensen, I'm sorry. I should have spoken to Misha first before dragging you up here."

Jensen looked at Jared and said, "No, you should have spoken to _me_ first."

"You're right," Jared agreed softly. "I should have spoken to you first."

"Mr. Ackles, have I done or said anything offensive? Jared looks like he's about to use my neck to ruin another one of my ties."

"No, you haven't done anything wrong. Jared just doesn't know me well enough to know how I'll react when I'm caught off guard." He looked pointedly at Jared. "About talking about my disability or anything else unexpected."

"He's right." Jared admitted. "I _don't_ know, and I should've known before I jumped in with both feet."

Misha smiled gently. "Yes, Jared's big feet have a habit of getting stuck in his mouth."

"I'm not surprised," Jensen huffed. "Jared, trust me, we'll talk later."

"Thank God." Jared let out a breath. "At least there'll _be_ a "later."

Jared looked so strung out, that Jensen half-smiled at him. "Yes, there'll be a later."

Jensen turned to Misha, "Mr. Collins, I hadn't considered the possibility of going back to school, so this is coming at me from left field. But if you think it's possible, then I'm interested. I do have an MBA and I minored in botany. For the record, I am legitimately, legally disabled, and I have the hang tag for my car to prove it."

He looked over at Jared. "We’re not going to dance around this. I'm handicapped, and whatever words we use to describe it: physically challenged, limited, disabled, or crippled, it is what I am."

Jared stepped close to where Jensen sat. "I know," he said.

Misha chose that moment to retreat to the file cabinets in the back of the room and open a set of drawers.

Jensen lowered his voice. "I had a boyfriend once who didn't like it and tried to ignore it. After a while, he got tired of avoiding the elephant in the room, so he left. We never talked about how this disability changed me—changed _us_. I know he hated that we couldn't just up and go like we did before. That we couldn't play gigs anymore, and that I hurt –pretty bad sometimes, well, _you_ know that."

Jared nodded.

Jensen cracked a sad grin. "He preferred the Softball Player me over the Sling-Wearer me. So, if we're starting something, we've got to hit this subject square on because I'm not pushing it aside again. We’ve _got_ to talk."

"We are starting something." Jared leaned down and whispered, "Your ex was an asshole and good riddance to him. Wherever this goes with us, it will have nothing to do with softball verses sling." Jared reached behind him and grabbed a chair, walking it over until his chair legs scraped against Jensen's chair legs. He looked at the chair, then back at Jensen.

Jensen kicked Jared's chair out a couple of inches. "Go on. Sit down."

Jared sat and folded his hands primly. "I _am_ sorry I didn't talk to you about this first."

"Remember that for the next time."

"Thank God. At least there'll _be_ a next time."

"Shut up, Jared." Jensen tried not to smile but he wasn't successful.

"Talk, shut up, make up your mind." Jared grinned.

Misha returned to his desk with paperwork in both hands. "So do you want to look these over?"

Jared silently regarded Jensen. Jensen nodded and said, "Yes, thank you, Mr. Collins. Please show me what's involved.

Misha was serene. "I am here to help."

Jared patted Jensen's thigh and left it there while Misha spoke.

~~*~~*~~

Jared parked the Cherokee in front of Jensen's apartment building after a relatively quiet ride home. Jensen's shoulder was throbbing in earnest now, and a shot of Motrin and a nap sounded like a pretty good plan.

"So, here we are." Jared said. "Can I come up? Only for a few minutes, I promise."

Jensen smiled tiredly. "Of course you can come up. I'm not going to be very good company, but I'm hoping you'll get used to that."

Jared hopped out, opened Jensen's door and said, "Looking forward to getting used to that." Jared offered Jensen his hand.

Jensen opened the apartment door and headed for the bathroom. "Sit anywhere." He popped a couple of heavy-duty Motrin and a half of Flexoril before joining Jared on the sofa.

Jensen reached up to undo the sling.

"I can help you with that," Jared said.

"Thanks." Jensen winced as he breathed in deep.

Jared folded the sling and placed it on the arm of the couch. He leaned back and his arm slowly crept up the back of the sofa until his hand brushed the back of Jensen's head.

"I don't want to fuck this up, Jensen. I told you that I can be too much, but please know, I'll try to slow down. I will listen when you talk." Jared's hand stroked the back of Jensen's neck. "Don't let me fuck this up."

Jensen leaned into the warmth of Jared's palm and said, "I'm not sure how to do this. You're the first one since it happened. Three years isn't all that long, I'm still new at it." He looked into Jared's intent face. "I don't know how I'm supposed to be."

"It's new every time no matter what. New, exciting, and, sometimes exasperating. We both have to find our way around these uncharted waters." Jared thought quietly before he said, "I've never dated anyone with a handicap. Please be patient with me so I can learn when to help, and when to leave you alone."

"I've never been handicapped before. Be patient with me while _I_ figure it out. And next time, talk to me _before_ you set something up, okay?"

"Deal." Jared kissed his cheek and stood.

"Hey." Jensen's eyelids were getting heavy. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I was hoping you'd invite me back over. Maybe talk about college life, talk about rose bushes, talk about ancient artifacts, talk about softball. You know, talk. You did say we needed to do more of that, and to quote my student Zac, I am the Master."

Jensen chuckled softly. "Be careful what you ask for, huh?"

Jared leaned down and brushed a kiss to Jensen's forehead. "See how you're doing when you get up tomorrow. If you feel like company you know how to get me."

The door clicked shut behind Jared. Jensen's last thought as he burrowed down into the sofa cushions was, 'I don't want to fuck this up either.'

~~*~~*~~  
**_Three_**  
~~*~~*~~  
"Do you remember it?" Jared asked as he bounced onto Jensen's couch.

"You better believe I remember it, are you kidding? The details and the order of events after, they got a little tangled up, but Charlotte, Chris's wife, had a camcorder. Charlotte liked to video tape our games, and was taping the day I went down."

"Have you seen it?"

"Seen it?" Jensen laughed. "Yeah, I've seen it. I have a copy burned to a DVD. I don't know that I've watched it more than fifty or sixty times, though."

"Want to share it with the professor?"

"You want to see it?"

"It's a part of your life. Hell, Jensen, it's a major turning point in your life. You went from being a life long right-hander to becoming left-handed within seconds. I want to share that, if you wouldn't mind?" Jared asked carefully.

"It doesn't bother me, there's just not much to it."

Jensen went over to the DVD rack. He found what he was looking for, placed the DVD in the player and fiddled with the remote. He fast-forwarded it to a point before Bebe Ribozzo was called out to the plate, and sat next to Jared on the couch.

Jensen kept up a running patter, "The Green Hornets were one game away from the county championship. This guy, Ribozzo, hardly came out to play for the Lamplighters anymore except when they needed a real power hitter. He was good and could really slam them down the field. Believe me, that's a lot harder to do that with a softball than it is with a baseball."

Jensen slowed the action and the game was now playing at normal speed. Jared leaned forward, eyes glued to the TV screen.

"When they announced that Bebe was pinch hitting..."

"Bebe? Ribozzo?" Jared turned his head to Jensen. "Really?"

Jensen sniffed and continued, "I was warmed up and ready. I wasn't supposed to pitch that game because my shoulder was sore, but I knew they'd call me out to the mound when he showed up in the dugout."

"You didn't know how badly you were hurt before you pitched that game?"

"I knew my shoulder hurt like a bitch, but a lot of pitchers' arms do. According to the doctors at the hospital, by the time I pitched that game," Jensen pointed to the TV screen. "My shoulder had been held together by bubble gum and happy thoughts, so all it took was one good tug." Jensen clicked the volume on the remote and handed it to Jared. The crowd was screaming "Ja-kal! Ja-kal!"

"Jackal?" Jared asked.

"My nickname. Jensen "The Jackal" Ackles." Jensen ducked his head. "It seemed cool at the time."

"Man, that is cool!" Jared was wide-eyed. "You're 'The Jackal'. That's _way_ cool."

Jared watched without blinking. The screeching fans, the wave, the hoots and hollers. Then the noise level shot up as The Jackal strutted out onto the field, tossing the softball up and down as he walked. Jensen watched his younger, healthier, stronger self assume the position at the pitcher's mound. He saw his long, sun-bleached hair, his tanned, well-muscled arms and the pain he was trying to hide by keeping his arm tucked close to his body. It was soon over. One strike, one collapse on the field.

"Jesus, Jensen."

"Pretty anti-climactic, huh?"

Jared freeze-framed the game and stared at Jensen.

"What?" Jensen asked. "It's not like I relive it every time I watch it. In fact, considering what a life-altering event it was, it was pretty...underwhelming."

"No, you dope, I mean the crowd. Do you see them? Do you _hear_ them? You have them eating out of your hand. They love you, man." He looked at Jensen with pride. "You're 'The Jackal.'"

Jensen looked wistful. "Yeah, but after I hit the ground, they called Reggie Stephens back to the mound and the Green Hornets lost."

"You're shitting me, right?" Jared's eyebrows were at his hairline.

"What? No. We lost. I knew Stephens couldn't fire the ball past Ribozzo."

Jared clicked the remote. The action resumed with Chris tearing his catcher's mask off and running to the mound to help his fallen friend. The crowd went into a shocked silence as Jensen's team members converged on him. That was where Charlotte stopped recording.

Jared gently turned Jensen away from the TV. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" Jensen was mildly pissed until Jared's lips grazed his.

"You blow out your shoulder." Jared spoke with his lips skating Jensen's cheek. "You collapse on the field." Small kisses nipped down Jensen's neck. "Your life changes forever." Kisses pressed up behind Jensen's right ear, "And not in a good way," Jared whispered. "And you still worry about the fact that the Hornets lost the championship?"

Jensen moaned a sigh and closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Jared's affection. "If I hadn't," Jensen unwrapped his sling, "…you know, passed out, I would have knocked that shit eating smirk right off of fucking Ribozzo's face."

He handed the sling to Jared, who placed it carefully on the coffee table before shoving the coffee table into the middle of the room.

Jared moved Jensen down onto his back on the couch, and knelt on the floor. Jared looked down on him before seizing Jensen's mouth, first with his lips, then with his tongue. He folded his arms around and under Jensen, raising him up ever so slightly off the cushions. Jensen raised his left hand and cupped Jared's neck, holding on, kissing deeply, and settling into Jared's overwhelming embrace.

"Is this okay? I'm not hurting you, am I?" Jared's eyes were intense.

"No. God, no. I'll let you know." Jensen sat up, quickly unbuttoned his shirt and shook the sleeve off of his left arm.

"Wait, let me, okay?" Jared asked.

Jensen smiled and sat back. "Okay."

Jared's movements slowed as he cradled Jensen's right arm with one hand. With his other, Jared gently tugged until the shirt slid all the way off. He leaned over, placed Jensen's shirt on the coffee table, turned back and stared at the skin he'd just uncovered.

Jensen cleared his throat. "I told you about the surgeries I've had over the years, haven't I?"

"Yeah," Jared's eyes wandered from Jensen's ruined shoulder, down his pale, thin arm, his crooked elbow, and back up to the surgical scars crisscrossing the deltoid. "You did."

"Does it bother you?"

Jared ran his fingertips lightly over the scars at the shoulder, "I read somewhere that scars are just tattoos with better stories."

Jensen raised an eyebrow.

"Hey," Jared protested. "Just because it was printed on some guy's tee-shirt, doesn't make it any less profound."

Jared looked back at Jensen's arm. He opened his hand and ran his palm over the shrunken biceps and down the atrophied forearm to the wrist rubbing lightly with his thumb. "Does it hurt when I touch?"

"The scars don't hurt. Nothing hurts very much right now. You can go ahead, just be careful about moving the joints too much."

Jared stared up wide-eyed. "I'm a little afraid to."

"Don't be, it's okay. I don't always hurt like you saw the other night." Jensen sat up fully. "Here, I'll show you if you want?"

"I do want. Show me."

Jensen cupped his right elbow with his left hand and straightened the elbow as much as he could. Then he demonstrated the safe range of motion of his shoulder by lifting it up, out the side and making small circles. There wasn't a lot of range in the shoulder, but he had enough passive movement to dress without adaptive clothing and to get a washcloth and deodorant stick under his arm. Since undershirts weren't a strict requirement, Jensen didn't bother with them.

Jared's eyes kept their unblinking intensity. "What's it called?"

Jensen didn't understand. "What's what called?"

"The syndrome that causes you pain. You said it was pain, 'Just because.'"

"It's called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy. RSD for short. It's also called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome."

"Okay," Jared said. "Okay." On his knees and facing Jensen, Jared gently grasped Jensen's right elbow and looked at him for approval. Jensen let his left hand fall away.

"I won't drop your arm. I won't hurt you." Jared said.

Jared's touches were intimate in a way Jensen hadn't expected. His movements were gentle and almost reverent as he held Jensen's elbow with one hand and skimmed the fingers of his other along Jensen's arm, shoulder, neck and back. With two hands, Jared slowly and carefully lifted and moved Jensen's arm, shoulder, elbow, wrist and fingers. When it appeared that he was satisfied, he placed Jensen's hand back into his lap, and touched the fingers of Jensen's right hand with his left. Jared opened the hand twining their fingers and softly rubbing their palms together. Jensen smiled and squeezed Jared's hand with as much strength as his damaged nerves allowed. Jared came up to Jensen's mouth and kissed him.

"Thank you for showing me."

Jared leaned down and kissed the tip of each finger as he released Jensen's right hand. Then the gentle reverence was replaced by something hotter, something more sinful. Jared lay Jensen on his back and straddled him. Jared leaned down into him, one large hand pressing into Jensen's face, cupping his head as his tongue breached Jensen's mouth with a vengeance. Jared sucked the air out of Jensen's lungs. All Jensen could do was try to breathe through the onslaught until he retaliated by fisting Jared's hair, and pulling back. He planted wet, biting kisses down Jared's jaw and neck, tonguing the dip at his collarbone.

Jared growled low in his throat. "You are amazing, you know that?" he breathed into Jensen's mouth. One of Jared's hands moved down to rest on Jensen's cock, already straining against the zipper. "Amazing and so fucking hot."

Jensen groaned as Jared rubbed up and down the front seam. Jared whispered, "I've never met anyone like you."

"Never, huh?" Jensen reached for the back of Jared's head and pulled him down. The little gold hoops glittered merrily from his right ear.

"Never, ever." Jared slid his tongue into Jensen's mouth and his hand to the zipper pull on Jensen's jeans. Tugging it with two fingers he pulled back and asked, "Can I?"

"Nuh uh." Jensen shook his head. "Nope."

Jared's breath halted in a gasp. "N...nope?"

Jensen eyed the hem of Jared's pull-over. "Quid pro quo, Clarice."

Jared flashed an evil grin and tore the light blue long-sleeved tee up over his head and threw it on the floor followed immediately by his gray wife-beater.

"How about now?"

Jensen appraised Jared's broad chest, wide shoulders and two strong arms, and caught his breath. Jared's left nipple was pierced and sported a dime-sized silver captive bead ring. On the right side of his chest a brightly inked sundial was tattooed with the words carpe diem surrounding it. On his left shoulder, in blue ink, were three words of a  
somewhat similar sentiment:

 __  
**Ready  
** Set  
Go!  


Jared was beautiful, adorned and seizing the day.

"See?" Jared clasped his hands and pumped his chest, eying his sundial. "No good story here."

"God, you don't need one." Jensen surged forward and tried to tell time with his tongue.

Jared let his sundial get slathered for several seconds until he grunted and took Jensen's head in both hands.

"I want you to feel good, Jensen. I want to feel you on my tongue, swallow you down and make you come in my mouth." Jared looked sincere. Breathless, and sincere. "Would that be okay?"

Well _damn_. Jensen scooted on his back looking up. "Yeah." He swallowed. "That would be extremely okay."

Jared tugged Jensen's zipper down. With Jared's help, Jensen shimmied out of his jeans, and then his briefs, to give Jared complete access. Jared smiled and stared in wonder at what he'd just uncovered. Jensen spread his legs as Jared spit on his palms. He held Jensen's cock with two hands, not-so-gently pulling and twisting until Jensen was thick and wet. Jensen's breath caught in his throat, and he wheezed out, "You. God, Jared. Fucking perfect."

Jared chuckled low and stroked Jensen more firmly. "Not even close, Jensen. But this?"

Both of Jared's hands squeezed the shaft of Jensen's erection, adding more wetness to his hands by mouthing the head. He gestured to Jensen's fully hard and leaking cock. " _This_ , is perfect."

Jensen's cock stood at attention, quivering within Jared's two-fisted grip. Jared licked from head down to the root where his lips nuzzled the dark, coarse hairs. "Tell me what I can do, and what I can't. Tell me what you like and what hurts." Jared's words vibrated against his balls.

"Yeah, okay. So far you're doing real good."

"I'm trusting you, Jensen." Jared raised his head and licked a drop of moisture from the slit of Jensen's cock, then licked his lips. "Will it hurt...will it hurt when I make you come?"

"Oh, Christ, I hope not." Jensen was lost in sensation. "And I hope to find out. Soon."

The dull ache in his shoulder and the pins and needles prickling down his arm were overpowered by what Jared's hands and mouth were doing.

"Don't kid with me about this. Tell me if there's _any_ discomfort. I promise I'll find something." Jared's mouth encircled the head of Jensen's cock, and then gulped him all the way down as one hand braced the base of Jensen's erection. The long fingers of his other hand slid to Jensen's sac to stroke his balls. He licked up and off and looked into Jensen's eyes. "I'll find something that makes you feel good."

Jensen's eyes rolled back in his head. God, it had been a long time since he felt two hands on his dick, and a much longer time since a willing, warm mouth sucked on it. He pushed his hips into Jared's face. Jared snickered and opened wide. Jensen arched up, pressing himself down Jared's throat. Jared tightened his grip on the base of Jensen's cock as Jensen tentatively pumped his hips.

Jared pulled off, and wiped his lips on Jensen's inner thigh. "Go as hard as you want, as much as you want," he whisper-hissed. "I want you to."

There was a softer, yet stronger emotion under those words, but Jensen was too wrapped up in an imminent orgasm to evaluate it too carefully. Jared suckled on Jensen's cock head, waiting for instructions.

Jensen pumped his hips up. Jared lunged forward and sucked him down hard, driving Jensen's cock deep down to the back of his throat. Jared's head bobbed up and down, back and forth, swallowing, sucking, and holding on to the base of Jensen's erection for dear life.

"Like that...just like that." Jensen chanted as he looked into Jared's wide, glassy eyes.

Jared held Jensen's cock with his mouth, throat and large right hand. Jared snaked his left hand through Jensen's spread legs and used his long fingers to tease Jensen's balls. First one, then the other. Then Jared's middle finger wandered lower to breach his ass with the tip.

Jensen inhaled a shallow breath, momentarily stunned by Jared's all-encompassing enthusiasm; however he soon got with the program, and began thrusting in earnest up into Jared's hot, slippery mouth, and back down on Jared's finger. Jared opened his jaw wide and relaxed his throat even more, allowing Jensen to easily slide in and down. Jared's teeth scraped ever so slightly on the underside of Jensen's oversensitive cock. Soon, Jensen was working up a sweat, pumping into Jared's mouth. Jensen's good hand snaked down to Jared's crotch. One-handed and perfectly executed, Jensen undid the buttons and zipper to Jared's jeans, and reached in for Jared's already wet erection.

Jared moaned and helped Jensen with the task by gently removing his finger from Jensen's ass and placing his left hand over Jensen's left, showing him how he liked to be stroked. Jared kept his other hand firmly anchored to Jensen's cock. Their hands on Jared's cock matched the rhythm Jensen's hips set and soon, Jensen gasped, "Jared...soon...gonna..." Jared released his own cock, placed both hands on Jensen's hips and swallowed him all the way down and held him there. Jensen stiffened and swelled, pulsing hard down Jared's throat, gasping little whimpers of "Ah, ah, ah..." as the world whited out around him.

In the haze, Jensen felt the cushions on the sofa rock violently, and heard Jared's voice in the distance, "Jesus fucking Christ, Jesus Jesus, God..." until Jared's voice stuttered. He blinked up as Jared rose up from his knees and finished what both he and Jensen had started. A thick splash hit Jensen's belly, another hot splash hit him chest to chin.

When Jensen opened his eyes fully, he saw Jared leaning over him looking down. His lips were swollen and his pupils blown wide.

"That. Was. Awesome," he panted out. Jared wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I hope I didn't hurt you? You're okay, right? Because I want to do that again. Get all up and in that _fine piece_ of ass. Maybe not tonight if you're tired, but man, you are so hot. _Are_ you too tired? 'Cause, Jensen, you just don't know how fucking gorgeous you are."

Jensen rose to a sitting position, grabbed Jared around the neck one-handed and shoved his tongue into Jared's mouth. Jensen felt passion, gratitude, a post-orgasmic high, and an overwhelming urge to put Jared's lips to better use than talking right now.

~~*~~*~~

 ** _Four_**  
~~*~~*~~  
Tuesday night. Pottery night. Jensen was feeling no pain; his new habit of routinely taking Motrin and extra Flexoril seemed to be doing the trick. He used his left to lift his right hand out of his front pocket as he got seated behind his pottery wheel. Jared had already donned his teal green bandanna festooned with palm trees, sea shells and surf boards. He wore a little silver hoop, gold stud, little silver hoop, gold stud, etc. Allie was tying her hair out of her face, and Sophie was wearing Jared's Scooby-doo bandanna. Large balls of clay were waiting on each of the three wheels.

"Class, listen up, please." Jared addressed them professionally from behind the podium at the front of the room. Jensen was a little concerned because, aside from Jared's garish bandanna, there wasn't a hint of mirth in his tone. More troubling, Jared hadn't made direct eye-contact with him.

"We've done some practice moves with the clay, but now we have to get down to business and actually make something. This lesson is one I take quite seriously because the final outcome –the success of the final product—begins with learning this important maneuver correctly, early on." Jared casually surveyed each class member. His eyes rested on Jensen's right arm.

"Jensen you're going to have to relax for this and let me do it. We're going to have to come up with something for you so we can eventually trade off, but for the first time, I'll be performing this technique, as well as to supporting the clay. This maneuver, and the satisfaction we both derive, will depend upon how well we learn to work together. Ladies," he addressed Sophie and Allie formally. "You will have to develop this skill to your own individual strengths, likings and satisfaction. Understood?"

Jared's three students nodded their heads.

"Good." Jared gave a quick nod. He stepped in front of the podium and continued, "Okay, so far, we've learned how to center the clay. We've learned how to work the clay and have made rudimentary shapes. We've experimented with the effects of water, our fingers, different pressures, shaping tools, etcetera. Using what we already know, tonight we're going to begin the process of making a vase or pot."

Jared gestured with open palms facing up, and said, "Ladies, your wheels on now, please." He moved from the front of the class and sat opposite Jensen. He flicked the switch to activate their wheel and said, "Jensen, leave this to me, I'm pretty good at this."

Jared still hadn't looked at him.

"I'm going to execute what's called 'making the opening.'" Now Jared's eyes twinkled as he looked over at his pottery partner. "Also known as _'opening up the piece_.'

"If you want to have a satisfying outcome, you have to open up the piece smoothly, gently, comfortably and with a lot of wet on your fingers." Jared dipped his hand in the water bucket and shaped the clay into a smooth ball as he spoke. "I'm going to start by using my thumb to begin the opening. I'll circle first, then press gently in the center until I feel the clay give way, and then I'll make a shallow well."

Jared demonstrated with slow, careful movements. Using his left hand to support the spinning clay and his right hand for all the dexterous movements.

"Next, I'll press deeper, harder, more deliberately, making sure I keep my thumb nice and moistened." Jared dipped his hand in the water again and displayed his glistening thumb. "Now, I can comfortably keep my thumb there longer, applying just the right amount of pressure to create a larger, more spacious hole." Jared executed the movement with slow, precise timing.

"Now, I'll carefully remove my thumb add first one, then two wet fingers to the opening, one at a time, crooking them gently but firmly, making sure the clay stays centered. After I'm sure that two fingers are doing the job of opening it up, and the hole stays open without complaint, I'll carefully add a third."

Jared was the epitome of concentration and determination, as he worked on the smooth rotating clay.

"Now students, opening up the piece can be tricky. We don't want the hole in the center to wobble around." He looked up. "Got that? No wobbly holes! That's for a more advanced class." Allie barely contained her laughter, Sophie could barely look up at all, and Jensen was perched on the edge of his stool keeping his mouth shut so that the drool from his lips wouldn't drip onto his shirt.

Jared continued the lesson. "Now this is where the artist's hands are necessary for the delicate, intricate maneuvers. You have to know precisely when to perform the next step, for when that fine, fine piece of ass…uh...clay surrenders to two, then to three of my fingers and the opening is deep enough and pliable enough, and after scissoring my fingers a few more times, I'm going to carefully remove them, one at a time, and go in, using both my hands to widen the opening."

"Oh no you won't," Jensen deadpanned. "Not happening."

Allie burst into laughter. Sophie giggled, her cheeks turning an outstanding shade of scarlet before burying her head in her hands. Jensen could barely hear her muffled, "Oh, my!"

Jared turned to Jensen and said, "Aww, you don't have to worry, sir. Remember, I'm a professional. I'm an expert at making sure your hole doesn't wobble and your pot doesn't break."

Jensen laughed until his eyes were wet. Jared gave Jensen a delighted smile and cheerful thumbs up.

~~*~~*~~

"I'm taking you out." Jared's voice shouted through the cell phone. "I'm already on my way."

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise. But at least I told you about it beforehand. That's good, right?"

Jensen shifted uncomfortably, "I don't like surprises." He was hurting and knew that today would be better spent at home. Alone. With the curtains drawn and heavy meds at the ready. He'd been doing so well lately, that he'd almost forgotten that the regular torn-shoulder pain wasn't the showstopper. The RSD pain was. And right now, there was a timer counting down to the next inevitable episode.

"Jared, I really think I'd rather not go out today."

Jared's worried voice came through the handset. "Are you all right?"

"So far."

"Well, do you think you could just try a couple of hours? I really do have something planned, and I'm sure you're going to like it."

For Jared. He would. For Jared.

"Sure." He brightened his voice. "A couple of hours would probably be okay."

"Let me know if it's not." Jared's voice was obviously trying to mask his disappointment.

"No. No, it's fine. It'll be fine."

Jensen swallowed his usual amount of vitamins followed by 25mg. Zoloft and an 800mg Motrin chaser. Zoloft helped with the depression that sometimes plagued RSD sufferers, so he tried to remember to take that one every day. He held off on the Vicodin because he was scared of how much he liked the Vicodin Effect. Vicodin was a strong narcotic and he was prescribed a very high dose for the RSD episodes, but he was afraid of addiction, even though he didn't take it regularly. So instead of a preemptive strike against the pain using Vicodin, Jensen had bumped up his Flexoril even more. He'd begun adding a half a tablet or more to the full dose daily, even without RSD pain. It might come back to bite him, but the pain was much better controlled even if, strictly speaking, he wasn't supposed to be taking it.

He'd already taken his enhanced dosage today, but when Jared pulled up, he took out his pill cutter and downed another half a Flexoril.

"Remember," Jared said entering Jensen's apartment. "Say the word, and we'll come back. No pressure, no problem."

"Okay, I'll let you know. Gimme a minute. Oh, can you get my sling from the clean pile of laundry?"

"Sure thing."

Jensen walked carefully into the bathroom and shut the door. Vicodin made him sleepy, but the Flexoril didn't. He palmed the other half of the Flexoril tablet, and filled a cup from the tap in the bathroom. He fished out another bottle from the medicine cabinet. Maybe more Motrin, too.

Jared helped him don his sling, snugging it tight, and said, "We'll come right home after."

"I'll bet you didn't know what a fun guy you were getting when you started dating me."

"I'll bet I did." Jared stroked his fingertips down Jensen's cheek and kissed him softly. "C'mon."

They got into Jared's Cherokee. Jensen dropped his keys, wallet, and cell phone into the cup holder and reclined the seat. Jared was driving carefully, the road was smooth, the music was soft and the drugs were kicking in. It might actually work out.

After forty-five minutes or so, the scenery became very familiar. Jared turned off the main road onto a narrow paved lane. He slowed the car to a crawl, passing through the main gate where there were manicured gardens beside rough stone pathways shared by dog walkers and bikers. He drove slowly to avoid hikers, picnickers, and kite flyers. A Frisbee flew over the hood when Jared backed into a parking space by the ball field.

As Jared opened the car door, Jensen said, "I know where we are. How do you?"

Jared laughed. "Dude. I put the _"Research"_ into Research Archeology. Let's go." He grabbed Jensen's sleeve and dragged him forward.

A crack of the bat and the roar of a small crowd accompanied them into the softball park. The onlookers cheered when the first base umpire threw his arms out, the sign for "Safe!" Jared led Jensen to the first bleacher and stepped back. A murmur went up from the crowd. Suddenly, a video recorder was pointed at Jensen. Cell phones aimed his way, and several people swung their digital cameras away from the softball diamond and toward Jensen. Jensen looked over his shoulder quizzically at Jared, then to the spectators.

_Ladies and gentlemen, the Little River Lamplighters would like to thank the Green Hornets's own former pitcher, Jensen Ackles for being here today. Wounded in the line of duty, Jensen's the king and cham-peen of the 65 mile per hour fastball. Let's give a warm 'Welcome home!' to the Jensen "The Jackal" Ackles!_

The Green Hornets side of the field let out a rebel yell. A loud voice from the nosebleed seats shouted, "Ja-kal! Ja-kal!" More voices joined in, crying out, "Ja-kal! Ja-kal!" The bleachers were overrun with people roaring like lions, barking like dogs and screeching Jensen's moniker. On the right and on the left, the Hornets fans started a wave that crashed back and forth in the stands.

Then, one woman in the front row of the opposing team's bleachers smiled over at Jensen. She stood and started clapping. Slowly at first, row after row of rival enemy fans stood and applauded, gaining speed and momentum by shouting, stomping their feet and pumping their fists in Jensen's direction.

Both teams on the field stopped the play and hooted their approval, waving and cheering in Jensen's direction from the infield and the dugouts.

Jensen stared wide eyed at the softball diamond, the Green Hornets crowd's disorganized wave, and the Lamplighters spectators rising to their feet, clapping. They were all cheering for him and he'd been out of the game for three years.

Looking across home plate, Chris pulled up his catcher's mask and pointed to where pretty, blonde, Charlotte smiled, working her video camera.

_We'd like to thank Jensen for his years of softball service and hope he regularly joins us in the stands to cheer us on!_

Jensen swallowed thickly and looked up at Jared. "How? I mean...how?"

Jared raised a hand. "Wait for it."

_And thanks to his talented ceramics teacher for getting him out here to be with us today!_

"Boo Ya!" Jared jumped up and down, both arms raised in victory as he shuffled backwards in an awkward moonwalk for the adoring crowd.

_Now teams! Let's play ball!_

The talented ceramics teacher grabbed Jensen by his good shoulder and spun him around. Jared must have been overly excited, pulling this stunt off so flawlessly, that he forgot and threw both arms around Jensen in a too huge, too strong bear hug. Jared's grin was ear to ear, as he squeezed Jensen close and planted a wet kiss squarely on his lips before saluting to Chris behind the plate. Jensen gritted his teeth as the pain he'd feared all last night and this morning began to materialize.

"Jared." He tried not to moan.

Jared's eyes were alight with pleasure. He was like a kid at Christmas watching the crowds as they sat back to watch the game. Most of the fans on both sides were still smiling in Jensen's direction. Jared was vibrating with fun and passion. He was alive, vital and loving life. Like Jared always was. So many things that Jensen would never be again. His arm began to swell.

"Man, oh _man_! That was fantastic! Did you see, Jensen?"

Jared waved to a little boy in the bleachers across the field.

"I have to go, Jared. I have to go home now." Jensen curled over, holding onto his arm in the sling.

"What? Why? The seventh inning stretch is gonna be awesome!"

Jared's smile fell as he looked over at him. "Jensen? Are you in pain?"

Jensen nodded and caught his breath. A locomotive roared in his ears, as the muscles in his arm clamped down all at once. "Oh...my...god..." He doubled over, pain so sharp he could hardly breathe.

Jared's strong arms circled him, gently this time, and turned him toward the parking lot. "Okay, we're going home now. Do you have any meds with you?"

Jensen shook his head. "Can't. Can't take them if I'm out. Shit, shit, fuck." He started his deep breathing even though that technique never worked. "God...hurry."

"You're going to be okay. I'm taking us home, now. I know it's hard, but try to relax."

Jared got the passenger-side door open and helped Jensen climb in. The pain drilled into the right side of Jensen's body. Needle sharp white-hot pulses radiated up his arm, boring through his neck and into head. Sweat dripped down Jensen's face and back, soaking his shirt. His arm, swollen from the top of his shoulder down to his fingertips, pulsed and burned. The pain was so profound it became a separate entity. Its massive jaws clamped onto him tearing away the sinew and muscle as it ate its way through his ribs to chew on his hip and backbone.

"Stop...make it stop." Jensen chanted, "Oh, god, oh, god..."

"Easy, Jen. Be easy. You'll be fine. We'll be home soon, I promise. You're doing great." Jared kept speaking soft words of encouragement and praise throughout the drive home.

The forty-five minute trip up was a twenty-seven minute trip back. Jared pulled up to Jensen's apartment and yanked the car door open. Jensen was a quivering mess. Sweating, shaking, and pleading, "Help me, Jared. Please, god, help me."

"It's okay, Jensen. I know what to do. First, I'm going to get you out of the car."

"No. No. Fuck...no." Jensen shook his head, delirious with pain. He knew he had to get out and get upstairs, but the idea of getting out of the car and climbing to his apartment was unimaginable, unbearable.

"Jensen, we've got to."

"No! Wait! God, let me...please, please wait."

"Jensen, listen to me." He heard Jared fishing around the dash and then the clinking of keys. "I'm going up to get your meds and give them to you here, all right? I'll be right back."

Whatever Jensen was going to say got lost in a violent spasm that nearly sent him to the floorboards. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and at that point all he could do was sit in the passenger seat of Jared's car and cry. Pain-filled, inconsolable sobs. All there was, was pain. Every breath, every heartbeat blazing with it. The nerves, deep below the flesh, were on fire, incinerating him from the inside out. He wasn't like Jared, who was alive and happy. Jensen was dead and burning in hell.

Time stood still until Jared appeared with a handful of pills and a large glass of water. He held it up to Jensen's lips. Jensen was shaking so badly couldn't drink. Jared's hand was steady on the back of Jensen's neck. He raised the glass again.

"Drink first, Jensen. Wet your lips and your throat to help the meds go down easier. Come on. You can do it."

Jensen was shivering, looking helplessly at Jared. Jared's face was in front of his with a calm, sweet smile and he moved his hand back and forth on the back of Jensen's neck. "I know you can do it. I'll help."

Jared brought the glass up to Jensen's trembling lips and this time, splashed a little bit of water on them. Jensen raised his left arm and grabbed for Jared's wrist.

"See, Jen. That's it. You've got it. Take a sip. I need you to take a sip."

Jared needed him to. Jensen swallowed a small amount of water. Jared placed the meds on Jensen's tongue and said, "Take a big gulp and get them all down at once. One, two three...swallow."

Jensen did as Jared directed him and all the pills went down.

"Finish the rest of the water now. Go on, it'll help the tablets dissolve." Jared coaxed.

Jared closed Jensen's car door with a gentle click, walked over to the driver's side and let himself in. Jared reached out a hand in Jensen's direction, but when Jensen flinched, Jared placed his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel. Jensen trembled against the car door and prayed that this would be over soon.

"You know," Jared said softly. "When I saw the video Charlotte made of your last game, it got me thinking. At first I figured that you might need some kind of closure on that aspect of your life. I know softball was something you put a lot of effort and energy into, but more than that, it was something you loved. But then I thought that "closure" was too stuffy a reason, you know? I mean, _you_ don't talk in terms of 'needing closure' and shit, so I figured neither should I. Except then I thought it'd be _fun_ for you to get the recognition. You never noticed how much the crowd _loved_ you, Jensen. They just...they just fucking loved you and were horrified when you hit the dirt after that last pitch. All you were thinking was that you lost the game by getting knocked down. But I wanted you to know that you were more than just a pitching arm to these people."

Jensen focused on the sound of Jared's voice, the timber and the feeling, not so much on the words.

"This crowd, your _team_ , they cared about you, man, and you never knew." This time, Jared lightly linked his fingers with Jensen's left hand. "You were too busy thinking that you let them down to allow yourself to feel their gratitude, their affection and their respect. Jensen, you are awesome. Stupid sometimes, but mostly awesome. And I wanted to do something for you so you'd _know_. I just wanted you to know."

Jensen squeezed Jared's hand. The meds were kicking in and the pain was slowly retreating under a thick narcotic cloud.

Jared continued. "Today, you said you weren't feeling all that great, and I should have recognized that as JensenSpeak for: Holy shit, hit the deck! Bolt the doors and stay under the covers. But, I didn't catch on. I didn't listen. I wanted you to see the show I set up for you, when I should have listened to you instead." Jared lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, again."

The vice grip of pain let up enough for Jensen to speak. "You did all this for me and I don't know why." Jensen paused and took in a careful breath, tears still leaking from his eyes. "Look at me. Can't you see that this is how it is for me? You're so full of life and great things wait for you. I'm not who you think I am. I'm not who I was." Jensen's exhaustion at putting up with the pain and the effect of the heavy drugs closed his eyes half way. "Why do you even bother?"

He thought he saw Jared smile. "You really don't know why I bother with you? Jensen goddamn Ackles, weren't _you_ listening?" Jared squeezed Jensen's hand. "Jesus-God, you're an idiot."

"A what? I what?" The drugs finally, _finally_ dissolved some of the pain, and Jensen's arm relaxed. The spasms let up and the sweating eased.

Jared must have noticed because he said, "I'm going to help you get out and up. Okay?"

"Okay." Jensen's voice shook. "What do I have to do?"

"You have to let me. Ready?"

Jared got Jensen out of the car, bearing most of Jensen's weight as they climbed up the stairs. He got Jensen through the door and into bed. Jensen grabbed Jared's hand and said, "I'm sorry. Thank you for what you did. That was...that was incredible. You did that. You did that for _me_. I'm sorry I ruined it."

"It's not your fault." Jared took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes. "It's _not_ your fault. Please, don't be sorry."

Jensen knew he had important things to say. Things that would make a difference to him and Jared, but all words escaped him at the moment. Instead, he said, "Stay for a couple minutes?"

"Sure." Jared pulled up a chair and sat next to the bed. He smiled softly. "I'll stay for a couple minutes."

As Jensen's eyes slowly closed, he felt the backs of Jared's fingers brush along his cheek. Before he fell head-long into a drugged sleep he heard Jared whisper sadly, "God damned fucking Ribozzo."

~~*~~*~~  
**_Five_**  
~~*~~*~~

It was Wednesday night and Jensen sat at the computer, finally feeling well enough after last weekend's debacle. Paperwork was strewn about his little computer desk as he studied the syllabus for Architectural Landscaping on the university's website, scribbling notes left-handed as he went along.

For the first time in three years, he was hopeful about the future. This was possible. This was something he wanted to try. Misha Collins had emailed course information and sent Jensen paperwork needed to verify his physical disability, applications for student aide, and copies of his application for admission. He'd need letters of recommendation, but Misha assured him that because of his own academic and work history there shouldn't be a problem. Jared had already recommended him personally, and with his department-head status, that carried some weight. All in all, it was a slam dunk.

Jensen would start by taking one summer class and see how it went. One step at a time. It would take years, but all he had was time.

His head spun with possibilities. He would talk to Chris and see if, when the time came, there was a way he could piggy-back his landscaping venture—tentatively called _Ackles's Green Designs_ —with _The Green Grower_. Jensen found that the Small Business Administration provided low interest loans to help disabled people start a business, and he would apply when his graduation date neared.

At first, he might be able to hire one of Chris's friends, or Chris himself, to do the manual labor for the small jobs. In the long run, he could see himself setting his own schedule, hiring workers, and supervising on site. Where once Jensen's future consisted of pain medication, future surgeries, and the TV on mute, now there were flowers, trees, stepping stones, and low voltage outdoor garden lighting.

And Jared. God. And Jared.

A boisterous knock –shave and a haircut—cut through his daydreams. Jared stood in the doorway with a wide grin.

"Hey, you." Jared gently enveloped Jensen into his arms.

"Hey yourself." Jensen said unconsciously guarding his right side.

"Sorry, I'm sorry." Jared made an involuntary side-step.

"No, it's okay. I'm okay. Not even a teeny tiny bit sore."

In fact Jensen _was_ feeling fine. He'd missed ceramics class last night and knew Jared was coming over tonight, so he'd taken two or three Flexoril and a quarter-dose of Vicodin as a pre-emptive measure. He didn't think it was enough that Jared would notice.

"In fact," Jensen grabbed at Jared's collar. "Right now, I'm feeling pretty damn good."

"Really?"

Jensen leaned forward and kissed him soundly. "Yeah, really."

Well, maybe his speech was a little off because Jared said, "You're a big, fat liar."

"Hey, not so fat." Jensen wrapped his hand around Jared's neck, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him again. Jensen's meds made him less inhibited.

"Hmm...I could get used to this," Jared said, nibbling at Jensen's lips. "Let's stay in tonight."

"I thought you wanted to go out? Didn't the Nicholas Cage movie open last weekend?"

"Don't care. Wanna stay here." Jared led Jensen to the couch and sat him down. "Been thinking about you." Jared leaned in and brushed his lips to Jensen's jaw. "Thinking about you a lot." Jared sucked a small mark on Jensen's neck under his left ear. "There's something I'm wanting to do with you tonight."

Jensen broke contact. "Is that right?" He leaned back spreading his legs. "I could be up for something."

"You're a dirty boy, with a filthy mind," Jared admonished. "And Lord knows I love that, but I'm thinking of something else first."

"Really?" Jensen drawled. "Well then, what's on _your_ mind, Dr. Pads?"

Jared looked at the dusty guitar in its stand over in the corner. He raised his eyebrows in a silent request.

"Do you play?" Jensen sat up from his lounging position.

"A very little bit. I was hoping you'd show me what you can do." Jared went over, picked the guitar out of its stand and brushed it off with his shirtsleeve.

Jensen winced, but not from physical pain. Jared sat on the couch sideways against the arm of the sofa and opened his legs. Jensen eyed him warily.

"Come closer to me."

Jensen scooted between Jared's sprawled thighs and leaned up against Jared's chest. Jared held the guitar by the neck with his right hand, and placed the body of it in Jensen's lap. Jensen gave a tentative left-handed strum on the six strings.

"Whoa, yikes." Jensen made a face. "After three years of sitting there, this is way out of tune."

"I'll go ahead and pluck the strings slowly so you can tune it."

Jensen moved the guitar over so that it sat firmly in front of him and Jared's long arm reached around to finger the strings.

Jensen didn't have perfect pitch, but his ear wasn't bad, so he was able to get the tuning keys to cooperate, and after a few tries, the strings sounded much better. When Jensen was satisfied with the sound, his fingers went to the strings over the sound hole, and Jared's fingers went to the fingerboard.

Jensen strummed. Something he couldn't do anymore by himself. While his fingers were getting used to the feel of the strings again, Jared's fingertips created a simple G chord.

Jensen closed his eyes, and let his fingers feel the sounds. Jared's fingers changed from G to E minor7 to A minor 7 to D7 and back to G. Jared repeated that chord progression a few times, and when Jared fingered a slightly different progression with some jazz chords sprinkled in, Jensen started plucking the strings in rhythm. To his mild surprise, Jared softly began singing the song that belonged to the chords. His voice was surprisingly pleasant as he sang the old Sam Cooke song,["You Send Me"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pX6QlnlMqjE).

"Darlin' yo-u send me. I know yo-u send me. Darlin' yo-u send me..."

At this point, Jensen joined in, "Honest you do, honest you do, honest you do..."

They waded awkwardly through the opening verses but by the time they got to the middle, they were in some kind of sweet harmony. Jared then stopped singing to concentrate on getting the chords right, so Jensen sang alone. "Whoa-oh...whenever I'm with you --I know, I know, I know when I'm near you...mmm --honest you do, honest you do..."

When the last note echoed, Jared kissed down the back of Jensen's neck. After removing the guitar from Jensen's lap and placing it on the floor beside the couch, he shifted his leg so he could turn Jensen toward him. Jensen met his mouth and kissed him warmly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jared said as he moved down Jensen's body, unbuttoning the shirt, unbuckling his belt, undoing his jeans, and mouthing Jensen's body as he undid the clothing. He unzipped Jensen's fly and nuzzled inside the vee of Jensen's thighs, Jared's hot breath, stirring Jensen's cock to life. Jared mumbled, "I'm rearranging my schedule this summer, and I'm hoping you'll come with me to the dig site in Virginia. And next year? Come to Europe with me."

"What?" Jensen asked.

"Come with me. I want you to be with me." Jared stretched his neck and kissed the soft hairs at Jensen's belt-line.

Jensen was stunned. This was not what he was expecting. "Why?"

"I've got my tongue in your navel and you have to ask me why?"

Jared looked up and must not have liked what he saw in Jensen's eyes.

"What's wrong? I thought you'd like to see what I do. Join me at my work. You always sound excited when I talk about it."

Jensen took a breath, his heart unexpectedly heavy. "I am excited. I love that you found your calling, that you are in such demand that you always have projects planned. Your love of life, your passion to follow it, is so much of what I admire about you."

"Then share them with me, Jensen. C'mon, let me show you what I can do."

"Jared, I _can't_."

"Sure you can."

"Jared..."

"I'll sleep better, work better, _do_ better, knowing you're okay. Knowing you're close by." Jared wrapped his arms around Jensen and kissed a line back up to his neck. "Jensen, I love being there for you. I love..."

"Jared. Listen..."

"...you. Come with me, and I'll take care of you if you need me to."

Jensen pushed back hard. "You're not listening!" He pointed into Jared's surprised face. "You're still not _listening_ to me. There are things I can't do. Don't you _get_ it by now?"

"Get what?" Jared sounded baffled.

"You're supposed to talk to me about things before you just go off and do it."

"I am talking. We are talking." Jared reached out for him.

"No, you're making plans. Plans that involve me without me having any input. Jared, listen to me now. I know what I can and can't do, and I can't travel with you." Jensen stood and buckled his belt. "I will _never_ be able to do that."

"Yes, you can. You can try."

"No, I can't," Jensen shook his head. "I can't be far from home. In case you didn't notice, I can't even be an hour away without having problems. I can't go with you."

"I know I can take care of you, Jensen. I know what to do. I _want_ to."

"Drop it! Jesus, just drop it!" Jensen paced in small angry circles. "You and me, circling the globe together, is not going to happen. You? You're ready to fly out and conquer the world. Me? I'm _here_ and that's _it_."

"Jensen, don't _you_ get it? I don't _want_ to fly solo." Jared lowered his voice. "I'll help you manage the pain."

Jensen stepped away. "That's not what I want for you or for me. It's not what _you_ should want at all."

Jensen's frustration was giving way to anger. "You need to go do your thing, and not baby sit me and spoon feed me my drugs."

"I want to share my work with you."

"For God's sake, Jared, you'll share it with the _world_. The _whole fucking world!_ "

"Fuck the whole world! I just want _you_."

"How can you say that?" Jensen's head was swimming from the drugs, the adrenalin, and the high emotion. "You barely know me."

"I know enough."

"You _think_ you know me, but you don't. Did you even ask if I had something planned for this summer? Did it occur to you that I might have other interest and could occupy myself while you were gone? Didn't you think I could take pride in what you were doing, with something you love so much, and that you would share it with me when you got back?"

"Jensen, I didn't mean..." Jared stopped. Obviously a thought hadn't occurred to him. " _Do_ you have something planned?"

"Yes! Yes, I _do_ have something planned." Jensen made a fist and clutched it tight. "Goddamn it, Jared. I'm not as fragile and as helpless as you think, and I resent that you think I need you every minute."

"You resent me?" Jared stood and faced him.

"Christ." Jensen paced a few steps away then turned. "Who do you see when you look at me? You see somebody who's either in pain or waiting for pain."

"You're wrong. I see someone strong, someone selfless..."

Jensen ignored him, and tapped his own chest. "But to me? I'm someone you've never met. The real me is a guy who digs in the ground for a living. I haul bags of topsoil and landscaping gravel over my shoulder. I plant apple and cherry trees after using heavy machinery to backhoe and bulldoze. I use loppers and clippers and pruning sheers to cut away old branches and overgrown shrubs. I get my hands dirty. I _grow_ things!"

Jensen's voice shook with emotion. "I play the guitar in a band with Chris and Steve. Steve who left, and wrote me out of his life."

Jensen's breath stuttered and said more to himself than to Jared, "I have one of the fastest pitching arms in the county, maybe even the whole state. I'm the "Jackal" for God's sake. I play...played softball." And then lower voiced. "I played fucking softball."

Jared was silent, listening.

"You _don't_ know me. You'll never know me because I don't exist anymore. It's not only my arm that's dead. _I'm_ dead. I died three years ago, and this person, the one you see now? He's in my place."

"Jensen..."

Jensen shook his head to clear it. "But I _am_ doing it, so I don't need you. Make no mistake, even though I will never be able to dig a hole, play the guitar, pitch a softball or work a potter's wheel, I _can_ take care of myself." He was on a roll and couldn't stop. "And I refuse to become another one of your projects."

Jared's eyes widened in shock. "Projects? One of my _projects?_ "

"You always have one, don't you? Finish one, on to the next."

Jared moved. "What the fuck?" He took long strides around Jensen's small apartment, pointing in the air, raising his voice. "Fuck that, Jensen! _Fuck_ that! One of my _projects?_ Where did _that_ shit come from?"

Jensen shrugged his one shoulder.

Jared stopped pacing. "Oh. My. God." He raised both arms.

"Why are you saying this? You know...you _know_ that's not what I'm doing." Jared's hands were flying. "Don't you know how much I fucking care about you, you moron! So much sometimes it hurts to think about. Jesus, Jensen, _I_ need _you_. I want us to help _each other_. I want us to _be_ together." He jabbed a finger at Jensen. "I'm not going to give up on you because of the pain or your _disability_. You're not a project, you idiot. You're my...you're my friend."

"You think so, now." Jensen turned away.

"Fine, your life sucks." Jared was at the end of his rope. He growled out his words. "You don't want me caring about you? Fine! You don't want me helping you? I get it. You want me to talk to you, but it's okay when _you_ don't tell _me_ when you're hurting. Yeah, you let me find out about that by almost passing out in my car."

"Jared, that's not fair."

"And apparently it's not fair when I bring _that_ up. But it's fair to say that I think you're an experiment, or some kind of bullshit project that I'll abandon one day when I've had enough, right? Jensen, don't you ever, _ever_ , put words like that in my mouth."

"Well _I've_ already had enough of it." Jensen indicated his right arm tucked close to his side. "And if _I_ can't get past this, how the hell can you?"

"Christ Jesus, Jensen! Stop acting like the poor little one-armed boy for a minute and listen to what I've said, and how I really feel about you, you stupid ass! Or are _you_ trying to write _me_ out of your life? Is that what this is really about?"

Now Jensen was speechless. They stood toe to toe in front of Jensen's sofa. Two hotheads staring each other down. Jared finally relaxed his stance.

Jensen walked past Jared, opened the door and indicated the outside with his left hand. "Time for you to go."

"What? Why?"

Jensen opened the door wider.

Jared paused, and then moved to the outside of the door. "Why? God, Jensen, what did I do but just want you?"

"I'm not the person you want, Jared. I can't be that for you. I can't be that for anybody." Jensen looked away. "And now this little one-armed boy is telling you to leave."

"Aw, fuck. Jensen, please, let's calm down and talk about this, okay? Just like we said we'd do."

"Just go, Jared." Jensen rubbed furiously at his face. "It's over. We're over. I'm sorry. There's nothing else to say. Go. Go make your place in the world, and let me stay here...and just...let me die in peace." He looked into Jared's forlorn face, shut the door, and turned the deadbolt.

Donna Ackles, Jensen's mother, used to say those same words to her naughty children. If he wasn't so drained, Jensen would have laughed at himself for using his mother's favorite expression of woe. Except, to get the full Momma Ackles effect, Jensen would have to flutter a hand to his chest, sob into a handkerchief and collapse dramatically into a nearby chair.

~~*~~*  
**_Six_**  
~~*~~*~~  
The pounding woke him up. At first he thought there was a bass woofer placed next to his bed, but there was no rhythm to the beat. Did he even have a bass woofer? Then, when he opened his eyes, there was an old-fashioned kettle drum in his kitchen. He blinked a few times and saw that, no, it wasn't a kettle drum. It was a drum like Chris had when he tried to play rhythm for the band. Jensen chuckled to himself. Chris was no percussionist, but he had a lot of heart when it came to beating that thing, what was it called? Ah, a djembe. There was a djembe drum with a hand-carved base sitting in the middle of his kitchen. Not a big one, and nobody was banging on it, so the pounding couldn't be coming from there.

"Jensen! Come on, man, open up! Jensen!"

Jared. He knew that voice. It was Jared, and he wanted him to open the door. Jensen stumbled to his feet, glad to notice that his arm felt pretty okay. He probably wouldn't even need his sling today, could just tuck his hand deep into his front pocket to keep it still. Maybe he'd even be able to drive a little bit, too. Wouldn't that be something? Hadn't sat in the driver's seat for a while, but that contraption on the steering wheel made it easy to make one-handed turns with his left hand. He'd go over to Jared's house. He wasn't mad at Jared anymore. Was he? No, he didn't think so. Boy, he really _could_ be a jerk sometimes, saying those things to Jared, especially like... Never mind, Jared was nothing like Steve. Jared was nice and fun and _sexy_. Jared _liked_ him. He'd make it up to him. He'd drive over and pick _Jared_ up for a change. Surprise him. The passenger side door on his blue Corolla worked much better than the one on Jared's red Cherokee. Wonder where Jared lived exactly. Over by the university, maybe?

"Jensen, I'll call the cops to take the door down, I mean it!"

Oh, okay. Jensen fiddled with the door knob and opened it up. "Hi. You're here? Is it hot out? You look sweaty."

"Jesus, Jensen. What took you so long to open the door?"

Jensen stared into Jared's face. Jared really did look like he'd been running or something. His face was red and he was breathing hard, but he smelled so good. Like warm air and cut grass. Jensen wondered if it was hot outside.

"You missed class on Thursday."

"I know, Jared, I'm sorry." Jensen rubbed a hand down his face and shook his head. He had to wake up better. Jared was here.

"There was something happening, I think." Jensen was finding it difficult to stay alert. For a couple of days now, maybe? He thought that he might be tired. The fingers of his left hand had slight tremors and he had trouble remembering if he ate or not. That was weird. He didn't feel hungry though, so, yeah, he must have eaten something.

"I called, but you didn't answer, so I called Chris. He said you missed work."

"What? I did? That doesn't sound like me." Jensen took a deep breath and rubbed his chest. "Jared? What day is it?"

"Jensen, are you okay?"

"You're always asking me that. Stop asking me that, okay? I'm fine, and I'm not mad anymore, and I don't want to fight with you anymore. That sucked. I'm just...hungry?" Jensen squinted at the wall. "What day is today? Don't you have to teach or something?" Jensen rubbed his chest again and headed for the couch. He looked into his little kitchen. "Huh. The drum's gone."

Jared turned Jensen and sat him down. Jared sat next to him—he seemed really nervous. Jared asked, "What do you mean, 'the drum's gone.'?"

Jensen leaned back and sank deep into the sofa cushions. Soft. He pointed a shaky finger. "There was a drum there, but it's not there now. I thought it was banging. It was probably you. That's kind of strange, isn't it?"

"Yes. That's very strange." Jared started patting Jensen down, feeling his head and laying his palm on Jensen's chest and leaving it there. He loved feeling Jared's hands on him.

"Hey, Jensen?"

"Mmm?"

"Have you taken anything today?"

Jensen didn't understand the question. He knew the words but didn't know what Jared was asking.

"Have I taken anything?" He looked around his small apartment. "What would I take?" And why was he having trouble sitting up? "Jared, I can't seem to..." The sofa cushions were holding him down. He looked at his shaking hand, caught his breath and pointed a finger out in front of him.

"Jared, look!" The djembe drum was gone, but now there was a small dog sitting on the kitchen floor, his happy tail thumping the dirty linoleum tiles. "It's Tucker," he whispered.

Jared had been talking on his phone, and Jensen really didn't want to interrupt his conversation, but it was so odd to see his dog in the kitchen. And so wonderful.

"Who's Tucker?" Jared's voice was soft and careful.

"My dog. I had to give him up when my shoulder got hurt. He looks cute, all fluffy and brown like that." Jensen smiled fondly at the little dog. "He's little, but he's stubborn and kinda tugged at the leash too hard." He looked up at Jared with a bashful grin. "I don't have a yard, so I have to walk him, and one day he took me by surprise when he saw a squirrel and pulled me down. I think I might have passed out for a while."

Jensen looked over at his dog. "It wasn't your fault, Tucks. You're a good dog. I'm not mad at you." He patted his leg. "Here, boy, c'mere. I missed you." Tucker perked his floppy ears and pranced toward his master's voice. "What a good boy. I really missed you." When the little dog jumped up and settled into his lap, Jensen shushed him softly and skritched behind Tucker's ear.

Jared made a whimpering sound.

"I had to take him to the county shelter because there was nobody who could take care of him for me." Jensen was smiling, but tears were forming in the corners his eyes. "Chris is allergic." He scratched under Tucker's chin and sniffed. "I didn't know if they had to put him down or not, but look, Jared. Here he is."

Tucker picked his head up and cocked it to the side.

"Hi, buddy. I miss you. Every day. I sure do miss you, little boy." Tucker licked his hand. "I'm sorry I don't have any treats for you. I threw them all out when I ..." A tear ran down Jensen's cheek. His good hand was shaking as he tried to sit up to pet Tucker better, except that Tucker didn't live here anymore. Tucker might not be living anywhere anymore.

"Jared?"

"It's okay, help is coming, just hang in there, Jen."

Jensen was on his back on the couch. Jared must have helped him lie all the way down. Jensen's heart was pounding so hard that his chest hurt. Now Tucker and the drum were both gone and his hands were shaking—even the bad one.

"Jared, what...?"

"It's an overdose. You took too much of something. It's okay, they're on their way. They'll help you."

"I don't feel right."

"I know. You made a mistake with your meds, that's all."

"Mistake?" Jensen rubbed his chest again. It was getting hard to breathe.

"Yeah, it was just a mistake. You didn't mean to take too many, right? Please..." Jared stopped and took a deep breath. "Please tell me it was an accident. You didn't mean it when you said 'Let me die in peace,' did you?"

It seemed important to Jared that Jensen say the right thing. The true thing. So Jensen told the truth. "My mother said that."

"No, Jensen, you..."

"Jay?" Jensen tried to breathe in, but he gagged instead. Maybe if he could get away from the smothering sofa cushions. "Not enough air in here. Don't...don't feel so good."

"I know, Jen. Listen. Do you hear that?" Jared unbuttoned the top buttons of Jensen's shirt. "That's the ambulance. They'll be here in a minute. You're gonna be all right."

"Oh." Jensen's eyes fluttered closed. "That's good."

Jared grabbed his good shoulder and shook him. "Jensen! Stay with me, man. You're going to be okay, but I want to hear it from you. Come on, man, open 'em up and tell me. Tell me you're going to be okay."

Jensen opened his eyes a crack. His chest was tight, and he didn't know if he was on the couch, the floor, or on the kitchen table. Tucker wagged his tail and licked his bare toes. A drum BA-boom, BA-boomed in his ears, and the earth tilted. There was a bright halo of blue-white light surrounding Jared. A siren wailed in the distance. But Jared had asked him something. Something important.

"Okay?" Jensen answered. Was that the right answer? "Okay, Jared." God, he hoped he'd said the right thing because he started twitching. The large muscles of his body jerked, his whole body started shaking, and then...

~~*~~*~~  
**_Seven_**  
~~*~~*~~

"Tucker's not dead."

"What?"

"Tucker. You're dog. He's not dead. They even kept his name. Tucker is living in a house with a mom, a dad, and three little kids. Two boys and a girl."

"How do you know about Tucker?" Jensen asked with dry lips, dry throat, and dry mouth. "And why is a Mack truck parked on my chest?" He took a deep breath and gritted his teeth.

Jared's palm made wide, comforting circles on Jensen's chest, avoiding the EKG electrodes and IV lines. "I went to the shelter. They told me to get out of here for a few hours, so I went to the shelter to ask. I guess I was making the staff nervous."

"Staff?" Jensen blinked a few times to get his bearings. He saw the IV needles, one taped to his left forearm and the other to the back of his hand. There was a tube puffing air up his nose. His right arm was slinged in white.

"Anyway, the lady at the shelter remembered you. Cute sad guy. Arm in a sling. Fluffy brown dog. She was a volunteer at the time you surrendered him. A family came in and adopted Tucker the same day you left him."

"Yeah? Wow, that's good." Jensen looked around at the cheerful, yet sterile room. "Damn, Jared. What happened?"

"You OD'd on Flexoril."

"I what?"

"Yeah, Flexoril. And a boatload of other stuff you took. Not eating and drinking for a few days didn't help either. Along with added emotional stress..." Jared stared at the floor.

Jensen was stunned. Then guilty. He knew he'd been popping more Flexoril than he should have, but didn't think he had taken too much. He didn't think he _could_ take too much. Apparently he was wrong.

"Shit. I'm sorry."

Jared cleared his throat, and asked softly, "Why did you do it?"

Jared was a wreck. His skin was sallow, his hair was stringy, and one lone earring dangled from the top of his ear. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, yet his gentle hand kept circling Jensen's heart.

"Because I _am_ an idiot." Jensen took another painful, deep breath. "And a moron. I thought that because Flexoril wasn't an addictive narcotic like Vicodin, I could safely take more of it. A lot of the pain I get comes from the muscle spasms, so I didn't think it would be a problem. I also didn't think that taking a boatload of Motrin would be a problem either." He looked up at Jared, who was smiling even though his eyes were watery. "I guess I thought wrong, huh?"

Jared stood, threw back his head, opened his arms and let out a huge huff of air. His smile turned into laughter, but twin lines of tears trailed down his cheeks. Jared sat back down, took Jensen's hand and said, "I'm glad. I'm so glad you're just an idiot."

"What, Jared? What happened?"

"You almost died, you jackass!" Jared wiped his face on his sleeve. "You went into seizure, and the amount of drugs you took made your heart beat so funky, they had to zap it to get it beating right. Right in your fucking living room. The EMTs asked me what you'd been taking...and they said that too much could make your heart...and they yelled "Clear!" like they do on TV...and I thought you might've done it...Jesus Christ, Jensen. They shocked you. They _shocked_ you. I've never, _never_ , been so scared in my whole fucking life." Jared closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead.

Jensen was having trouble tracking the events. The last thing he actually remembered was feeling pleasantly numb, taking his meds early and watching TV in his pajamas. On Thursday night. Instead of going to his ceramic's class. That's right, he didn't go to class because they'd fought the night before. He kind of remembered there being a Friday in there somewhere.

"About the argument we had the other night, are you still mad?" Jensen asked, and sucked in another breath. Less painful this time.

"Mad? Mad at you?" Jared looked up. "You can ask me that after you almost die in my arms? You're in the hospital with an oxygen cannula helping you breathe, needles stuck in you, shooting you up with pain-killers, electrolytes, and shit I don't even know the names of, and you ask if I'm still mad at you?" Jared stood knocking his chair back, and looked down at Jensen. "Of course I'm still mad at you, you idiot! You tell me you don't need me. You tell me you don't want me worrying about you. Saying that you fucking died three years ago. Jensen, you locked the door on me after saying...saying that you wanted to die." Jared turned away. "That you wanted to die in peace."

"What? Oh, Jesus, Jared, no." Jensen shook his head.

"After our fight, I gave you all day Thursday to cool off, and maybe I needed the day to cool off, too. I didn't think you'd come to class Thursday night, but I hoped you would. But you didn't, so then I tried calling you on Friday. I called and called, and even gave my classes pop quizzes so I could slip out of the classroom to phone you, but you didn't pick up."

"Jay."

Jared's voice crackled. "So I called Chris, and he said he would talk to you on Saturday, but on Saturday, he called me and said you didn't come in to work, and all I could hear was you telling me to leave you alone and let you die."

"No, no no. Slow down. Listen, just listen, okay? That thing about letting me die in peace was something my mother used to say when we were kids to make us feel guilty. I didn't mean it." Jensen was struck by the terror written all over Jared's face. "Oh, my God, Jared. That's what you thought, isn't it? You thought I did this on purpose."

Jared paused. "I didn't want to think it."

"I would never do that."

Jared's eyes were red, and he was shaking. "How would I have known that? How? When you hurt, you hurt so damn bad. Some of us, if we were in your shoes, might have given some serious thought to... to...maybe doing that. You were so angry with me. I'd never seen you like that before. And I couldn't understand _why_. I thought I'd pushed you over the edge. I thought you'd had it."

"Jared, stop," Jensen said gently. "Please, stop. Come and sit down."

Jared was strung tight, and while he couldn't seem to manage actually sitting, he righted the chair and hovered in front of it.

"Hey, look. Even _I_ knew I was over-medicated the other night when we argued, only I didn't realize how much. I took them—I over took—the meds because I wanted to be sure I'd make it through the Nicholas Cage movie. When the pain hits, it's scary, but almost worse than the pain is the fear that it's going to hit."

Jensen sighed and continued, "So, I'd started taking more of the drugs, especially the Flexoril, to try to keep the pain away, it was dumb, I was dumb. And that night, I said things I didn't mean, and things I shouldn't have said, or at least should have said better." Jensen hesitated, and then said sheepishly, "Kind of a bad way to find out that I really _am_ a moron _and_ have a temper, huh?"

Jared rolled his eyes, but his breathing was still choppy.

"Jared, if you think I'm capable of suicide, rather than plain massive stupidity, then I want to set the record straight on that. Okay?"

Jared sniffed loudly then nodded. "Okay."

Jensen fingered the controls on his bed and came to a sitting position. "After this happened," Jensen inclined his head to the right. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't at least thought about it, because after they said that this was permanent, I had two choices. Door Number One: live with the disability, or Door Number Two: Don't live at all. And Jared, there's nothing behind door number two."

Jared calmed at that, and stared down at Jensen with large, wet eyes.

Jensen met his stare and continued. "I figured the pros of living won out over the con of not even trying. But this pain, this useless arm...it is forever."

Jared squeezed his eyes shut, but Jensen continued. "The RSD is unpredictable. It could ease off, go into remission, or spread to other parts of my body. Even taking the arm off won't get rid of the pain. RSD doesn't work like that."

Jared shuddered and wiped at his face.

"Jay, even if it does let up, the nerve damage and torn muscles will always leave me with a painful, non-working, fucked up arm. But, even so, just so you know, I'm not planning on checking out any time soon."

"I'm glad," Jared choked out, staring at his shoes. "Like really, really glad."

Jensen smiled softly. "Me too. I fucked up and made a mess. I made a mess of everything. I'm sorry for that and I'm sorry I scared you."

"I'm just glad I got to your place when I did." Jared finally peeked at him from under his greasy bangs.

Jensen blinked back a little wetness before saying, "I am, too. Thank you."

Jared smiled. "Welcome."

Jensen said, "There is something, though."

"What?" Jared finally sat.

Jensen pressed his lips together then said, "The part where I wished you knew me before. Jared, I was so much more. I planted trees, grew flowers, and ran my own business. I had a kick-ass fastball that I was pretty damn proud of, and I was even going to start coaching the kid's team." He looked up at Jared. "You would have met Tucker. I could have played my guitar for you, and used both my arms to hold you." He reached for Jared's hand.

Jared gently squeezed Jensen's hand and hesitated before he said, "You were right. I should have listened to you. Every time you said you couldn't do something, and I made you do it anyway, you suffered. Every single time. I'm sorry, and I won't make...I'll _try_ not to make that mistake again."

Jared looked away. "This is bad of me, I know it is and I'm sorry but I've got to say it." Jared took his hand back and grabbed two fist-fulls of his own hair, looking up at the gray-white ceiling. "God, this is _so_ bad of me, but as awful as this is for you, if it _didn't_ happen you would never have ended up in my classroom, I would never have met you, and your douchbag boyfriend probably wouldn't have left you. So, I can't really be sorry. Christ, I'm a selfish bastard. But, Jen? _You_ need to know something." Jared looked down where Jensen lay on the hospital bed. "You're injury, your _disability_ , doesn't lessen you. It doesn't diminish the important things about you. It changed you physically, but it didn't make you _less_. To me, you're the strongest, kindest person I know."

He lowered his voice, and moved closer. "I'm sorry you can't do the things you did before, and I'm so sorry you hurt so much. But for me? I don't care who you were or what you could do before, because the guy you are now? This one right here? I'm crazy to pieces over him."

Jensen grinned, rubbing his sore chest. "Crazy to pieces, huh?"

"Yeah." Jared's hand joined Jensen's rubbing soft circles.

Jensen almost muttered, "Dork," but saw tears running down Jared's face. He wondered if Jared knew because he didn't seem to notice them. So Jensen reached up and wiped them away.

~~*~~*~~

They kept him in the hospital for three, almost four, days. Two days were all that Jensen remembered. He really had screwed up his system. Not only had he overdosed on Flexoril, he'd become dehydrated, his ibuprofen level was way too high, he hadn't eaten right or taken any of his other prescribed meds in any order, so his chemical balance was all off. On the fourth day, Jensen had all new prescriptions, and strict orders to adhere to them exactly. He was warned to renew his vitamin regimen, take his Zoloft daily, and follow the instructions for the pain relievers by the letter—no pre-emptive doses. Follow-up appointments were made with Jensen's primary physician and psychologist. Plus, follow-up consults with a neurologist, cardiologist, and a pain specialist.

Jared entered all the appointment times and locations into his iPhone and promised the discharging physician that he would be sure Jensen would follow up with all of them. Jared made a stop at the hospital pharmacy and picked up the prescriptions. It was late afternoon by the time he met up with Jensen in his room.

"Hey, I got you something." A white plastic bag swung from Jared's left pinky.

"My drugs?"

"Yes, but something else, too." Jared pulled out a key chain with a little metal canister attached. "This way, you can take your drugs with you, and if you need to take them when we're out, it's okay because I can drag your stoned ass home." He smiled and placed the fob with the medication holder on his right pinky and swung it around.

"I'll bet you didn't know what a fun guy you were getting when you started dating me," Jensen said again.

"I'll bet I did." Jared sat next to him on the hospital bed, kissing Jensen's lips before tightening his sling.

During Jensen's farewell wheelchair ride, Jared asked, "Do you think it would be okay if I took you to my place instead of yours? I mean, after all, you are my boyfriend now, right?"

When Jensen didn't answer right away, Jared continued, "I mean, I'll understand if you don't want to, but I have my own house, I have a really big bed, I make great sandwiches, we have all your meds with us, I can get Chris to help me get your car over to my place, it can only be for a few days or forever if you want, and I have a really big bed."

Jared looked down with hopeful eyes.

"Okay," Jensen nodded. "Sure. Your place."

"And you're my boyfriend now, right?" Jared's left leg was bouncing merrily.

Jensen continued nodding. "Yes, I'm your boyfriend now."

"Yesss." Jared fist pumped the air as the smiling hospital volunteer parked Jensen's wheelchair at the hospital entrance.

Jensen leaned up. "I _am_ fine now, you know," he said softly.

"I know. I just want to, you know..." Jared waved a hand in the air as he headed toward the parking garage to get his car.

Jensen imagined the picture his overdose painted in Jared's eye. It must have been stunning, because Jared was still freaked out over it. And yet, here Jared still was.

Jared pulled the Jeep up to the front door and heaved the passenger-side door open. After Jensen was buckled in and Jared was nosing into traffic Jensen cleared his throat.

"Hey, Jared?"

"Yes, boyfriend?" Jared snuck a peek to his right. "You okay?"

"Yes. What I wanted to say was..."

"What?"

Jensen took a deep breath. "In case I didn't tell you, I mean, in case I didn't say it...I shouldn't have yelled at you the other night. I know you mean well, and that you're looking out for me, and I know you do it because you care about me. I just wanted you know that you don't have to worry about me all the time. That I can take care of myself, despite what my recent hospitalization suggests."

Jared stared through the windshield. "Yeah, I know that."

Jensen stared at Jared's profile. "Jay?"

Jared glanced away from the road and at Jensen. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for the way it all went down. I'm sorry that we argued, and I'm very sorry for what happened after."

Jared kept his eyes forward for several seconds, nodded his head and said, "Good. That will make the make-up sex even more gratifying."

"I think it won't be so much make-up sex but rather, 'you saved my life' sex."

Jared's eyes narrowed on the road and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the wheel. "Don't say that."

"It's true," Jensen continued gently. "From what they told me, I went into a pretty hard seizure, and they couldn't get my heart to beat properly until they used the paddles. If you hadn't come, if you hadn't been there to dial 911, it could have ended very badly."

"I _had_ to come over. I couldn't leave it like that between us. Besides, you would have made it without me. You're one stubborn son of a bitch. You were right when you said that you didn't need me." Jared sounded like he needed to believe that.

~~*~~*~~  
**_Eight_**  
~~*~~*~~

Jared pulled into the driveway of a very large, very modern rancher on a secluded mountain road.

"Home sweet home," Jared said proudly.

"Nice digs, Doctor Jay." Jensen reached into the back seat for his backpack.

"Thanks," Jared said as he helped get Jensen's meager belongings out of the car. "How are you feeling? Really?"

"Really? I'm fine."

"Then come with me." Jared looped his arm carefully around Jensen's shoulders and gave him the tour. Jared's house had wide open living areas, three spacious bedrooms, including the master bedroom, though that door was closed.

There were four full bathrooms. "All with steam showers," Jared proclaimed.

The floor tiles in Jared's house were terracotta, he opted for floating walls when possible, ceiling fans, cathedral ceilings with lots of skylights.

A well-used stone fireplace was the centerpiece of Jared's study and took up the entire north wall. The walls were dark wood paneling. Jared obviously spent a lot of time here.

Stacks of books lined the built-in floor-to-ceiling shelves. A nine-drawer mahogany executive's desk with a banker's lamp and a Mac Pro computer with a 24" flat panel monitor were off to the left. Five Tiki tribal masks decorated the south wall, and high above the mantelpiece, in an ornate gold gilt frame hung a large black velvet painting of dogs playing poker.

Room after room had books, artwork, sculptures, ceramic pots, and photographs, and everywhere there were splashes of color, kitsch, and warmth. In the kitchen, the top of the long granite breakfast bar had colored glass mosaic tiles painstakingly pieced together to make the surface look like a Wonder Bread wrapper. Within one yellow bubble, the small, red glass initials, _JTP_ , were in-laid.

Jared's house was high up, and the hardwood deck from the dining room overlooked fallow fields and pastureland in the distance. His backyard was a couple of acres with at least half enclosed by a stack rail battlefield fence. An Egyptian sundial proudly stood on a pedestal in the middle of it all.

The house was big, comfortable, and quirky. It was all Jared.

He led them to a room at the back of the house where the wide French doors were closed.

"My favorite room." Jared smiled as he opened the doors and walked Jensen into his potter's studio. It was lit by the waning late afternoon sunlight from three large casement windows and two high skylights. Subdued earth tones covered the ceiling and three walls. The floor was textured concrete and there was a large kiln over by forth wall which was brick.

Clay pots of various sizes, clay sculptures, and several low bowls lined the shelves all waiting to be fired. On a ledge was a brightly glazed yellow and blue Jedi light saber. There was clutter from all the finished, half finished, and barely begun projects, but there was control to the chaos.

A potter's wheel and stool were in the center of the room. Jared clicked a remote and wine-colored fabric unrolled to darken the skylights and large windows. He pressed another set of buttons, and as the bright overhead lights quickly dimmed, Patsy Cline began singing ["Crazy"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2OVtpnpCOKM&feature=rec-LGOUT-exp_fresh+div-1r-9-HM).

"Since you've missed so many of my classes, and since I promised you a beautiful pot for your ficus, I'm giving you private lessons." Jared dropped a ball of clay on the potter's wheel and flipped the switch. Jensen grinned and took his place at the wheel. He undid his black sling and handed it to Jared. Jared placed the sling over the doorknob and stood behind Jensen.

Jared cupped Jensen's right hand in his, lifted it carefully and pressed them both onto the rotating clay.

"This okay?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you." Within the warmth of Jared's palm, Jensen's hand tingled when his fingertips touched the cool clay. Jared knew just how far to move his arm and hand without them hurting.

Using his left thumb, Jared pressed into the clay and began fashioning an opening. Carefully applying pressure, he maneuvered Jensen's right thumb into the hole to assist.

Jared's lips grazed the hair at Jensen's temple. "You know, I don't see why you can't teach children to play softball. There's got to be hundreds of ways of teaching the basics. If you wanted to, I know you could come up with some kind of game plan."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that." Jensen smiled. He leaned back into Jared's chest and said, "I probably could coach little kids to pitch a softball if I learned how to throw left-handed."

"I'm sure you could." Jared tightened his body around Jensen and kissed a spot close to Jensen's ear. "I bet you'd be awesome at it."

Jensen relaxed into Jared's embrace and continued, "I mean, you have this big back yard, and if we went to the shelter and adopted a couple of dogs, I could practice by pitching to them."

Jared straightened up. "A dog? Really?"

"Dogs," Jensen corrected. "One for me and one for you."

Jared gasped by Jensen's ear. "Dogs?" Jared's voice trailed off and his eyes glazed over, frozen in a happy faraway look.

When Jared stayed silent, Jensen said, "It's a fenced-in yard, so I wouldn't have to leash-walk them. You don't have to decide now. Just think about it, okay?"

Jared beamed a smile and looked down at Jensen. "Dogs," he said.

"Uh huh," Jensen nodded.

"Wow, yeah. A couple of _dogs_." Jared cleared his throat before he said into Jensen's hair, "That's a so very much cooler way to use your left hand. I mean, pitching a ball to our dogs, or drawing cartoons?"

"I know," Jensen said. "It really is."

The clay ball spun for several revolutions in silence. Jared's eyes were shining as said, "I've always wanted a dog, Jen. Always."

"I know. Me, too."

After several more maneuvers with the pottery wheel, Jared removed Jensen's right hand from the clay and placed it safely into Jensen's lap. Jared used his own right thumb with a bit more force to open the piece a little wider, and clicked the remote again with his left.

When the Righteous Brothers began singing ["Unchained Melody" ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6xb_ddP4nM&feature=related) , Jensen said, "You're kidding, right?"

"My cheesiness is endearing, remember?"

"So, are you going to wrap my legs around your waist and carry me into the bedroom?"

"No way, dude. I've hauled you up the stairs before and I _know_ how heavy your ass is."

"Criticizing my ass will not get you very far."

"Sorry, sorry, you have a wonderful ass. A spectacular ass. A sonnet-worthy ass created by angels."

"That's better."

"Whew, good. C'mere."

Jensen was still sitting in front of Jared, with his back up against Jared's chest. Jared placed Jensen's good left hand on the clay, and circled his own left arm around Jensen's chest, pulling their two bodies closer. Jared was all around him, strong, warm, gentle and loving. Jared leaned down, wet his hand, and worked the clay with only his right. After several rotations, their two hands working in tandem finished the opening and formed the beginning of a vase.

"See? When we put our two hands together?" Jared said, "We've got it made."

~~*~~*~~

"I may have lied." Jared had cleaned the mess from their pottery project and they now stood on the outside of the French doors.

"What do you mean?"

"I love my studio. I do. But, I think it's actually my second favorite room in the world."

"You said it was your favorite."

"Yeah," Jared threw Jensen's sling haphazardly around his own neck. "Hence the lie." Jared took Jensen's good arm and steered him down the hall toward the master bedroom.

Jared wasn't lying about one thing. His bedroom was dominated by a huge bed, wider and longer than any bed Jensen had ever seen, with an elaborate oak and wrought iron headboard. It was covered by a tiger-print faux fur bedspread and at least a half dozen bed pillows with tiger-eyes embossed on the pillowcases. There was even a step stool to get up onto the damn thing.

There was a comfortable overstuffed chair and ottoman in the corner next to a locked glass curio cabinet that housed, what looked like, artifacts and relics. A map of the world was tacked to another wall with push pins sticking out of it. As Jensen turned around, taking in the décor, the lighting dimmed and Jared turned him around.

"You can inspect the place later, for as long as you want. But right now," Jared leaned down and kissed Jensen chastely, "Let's head on over to the playground."

Jensen climbed up onto the bed and Jared laid them both down, Jensen on his left side. They were both fully clothed, facing one another.

"You're really here." Jared touched Jensen's face with his fingers. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want to talk about, but right now, I can't think of a single thing." He leaned in and Jensen met him. Gentle, chaste kisses turned into hot, slow bites and licks. Jared's hands smoothed over Jensen's back and his mouth sucked slow, lazy kisses down his neck.

Jensen buried his nose in Jared's shaggy hair and breathed him in. His heart quickened and his hand reached up to undo the buttons on both their shirts.

"How long?" Jared asked.

Jensen looked up questioningly.

"How long has it been since you last had sex?" Jared clarified.

"Three years," Jensen answered.

Jared took over undressing Jensen and worked his way down Jensen's bared chest. He planted soft kisses and light nips to Jensen's skin until his lips circled Jensen's right nipple for a few breaths. Then, Jared shed his shirts, rose up and offered his nipple ring to Jensen's mouth. Jensen leaned up and sucked and tugged, enjoying Jared's pleased sounds as Jared assembled a barrage of pillows behind Jensen. Jared slowly lay Jensen onto the pillows, keeping Jensen on his left side but rolling him over half onto his back. This allowed Jensen's right arm to lie gently while freeing up the left.

Slowly but surely, all clothing was removed and chest met chest, hip met hip, and proud flesh met hard cock as Jared loomed over Jensen. Jensen took Jared's hand, placed it on his thickened cock, and with left-handed ease, took Jared's in hand and stroked.

Jared whispered, "I know you're used to pitching, but maybe tonight I can pitch and you can do the catching?"

"Ooh, Jared. Getting me all worked up by using softball lingo."

Jared's eyes gleamed. "We can switch hit later." Jared lowered his voice to a near whisper, "If it's been three years for you, that means that you haven't had sex since the accident. Right?"

"Yeah," Jensen whispered back.

"So you don't really know what feels good and what doesn't, and I want to make it good for you. Would it be okay if I took the lead?"

"As this is my maiden voyage in these uncharted waters, please be gentle with me." Jensen tried to make it light.

"I will. That's why I want to take care of you...I mean...make it comfortable for you."

Jensen nodded and Jared moved around to get behind him. He rearranged the pillows, shifted and positioned Jensen's legs. "Remember, I'll do all the heavy lifting until we know what we're doing." Jared smiled softly and kissed the scars on Jensen's right shoulder. "But we're in this together, okay?"

"Together? Okay."

"And you gotta talk me through it."

Jared's hands spread Jensen's ass cheeks and blew a warm breath. Jensen shivered and sweated simultaneously.

"Don't feel much like talking right now."

A slick, wet finger trailed the top of Jensen's asscrack, down the middle to his balls, and back up again. Jared repeated the move with his finger for several passes, then two fingers, and then his whole hand moved between Jensen's legs, cupping Jensen's cock and balls briefly before sliding back.

"Jesus, Jared," Jensen gasped. "Get on with it."

"Oh, so you feel like talking now?" Jared slid his fully erect cock between Jensen's legs for several hard passes.

"Yeah, man." Jensen's breaths came short and fast. "Batter up," he moaned.

Jared pulled back and a moment later, Jensen felt Jared's cool, slippery thumb press between his thighs and trace a line from hole to sac. Jared's thumb rubbed a circle around Jensen's hole, adding pressure with each orbit. Jared's thumb breached the first line of muscle and Jensen caught his breath. Jared added a finger to the thumb, and made slow hard circles pressing in a little deeper. Jared withdrew his thumb and replaced it with his middle finger, so two fingers twisted their way up and around, pushing, prodding, and gentling the flesh inside.

Jensen helped by pushing back against Jared's hand, rolling his hips to take in more of his fingers. Jared responded by adding a third, cool wet finger. All three fingers were up as far as they could go.

Jared pressed in deep then retreating only to repeat the process until Jensen said, "Jared, _please_."

"It's okay. Hold on." Jared crooked his fingers and scissored them deep and hard, holding his fingers open to get Jensen used to the stretch.

"Jared."

"Gettin' there, Jen. I promise."

As Jared pushed up, Jensen pushed down as hard as the leverage he had allowed. Stars spun behind Jensen's eyelids, as a deep pleasure surrounded Jared's fingers. Jared pressed in once again.

"Yes, fuck, yes. Right there." Jensen said on a breath.

Jared kissed the top of Jensen's spine and pushed in with three fingers, crooked and widening them as he moved. Jensen fucked Jared's fingers, rocking and rolling with the rhythm Jared set.

"So good, Jared. So good."

Jared kissed up Jensen's neck and whispered on his ear, "A month before the spring semester began, I was at a dig in a dirty, emaciated little village in North Africa." Jared withdrew his fingers halfway to stroke his thumb up under Jensen's balls.

"You need to brush up on your pillow talk, Jared."

"I was tested coming and going, and I'm clean." Jared sucked a mark where Jensen's shoulder met his neck. "Have you ever gone without a condom?"

Jensen's mouth went dry. "Uh...no."

"Not even with Steve?"

"No. Never."

"Then it'll be a first for both of us. You're it for me Jen. I mean it. I don't ever want to share this with anybody else."

"Without a condom, you mean?" Jensen said it lightly, but Jared's hair prickled against his back as he shook his head.

"Ever." Jared stroked harder. "I want to feel you Jensen. I want you to feel me."

Jensen thought about it. Actually thought about it. "Yeah. Do it."

Jared pushed and stretched, three fingertips brushing the sensitive prostate, and lingering long enough for Jensen to shiver with sensation.

"Fuck, Jared. I'm ready. Go. I'm ready."

"Let me know if..."

"Goddamn it, Jared. Just fuck me already."

"I'm gonna go slow," Jared said as the slick, blunt head of his bare cock rubbed up against Jensen's entrance.

"Please, Jared?"

"I got you, okay? I want to make it good for you." With one push, Jared breached Jensen and nudged inside the first ring of muscle.

"Oh...oh yes." Jensen rambled. "Oh, Jared...I'm good...I'm okay..."

Jared bore down and into Jensen with strong but gentle insistence. As Jensen's body parted, and adjusted to accommodate Jared's intrusion, Jared forgot that he was the gentleman here, and shoved up and in until there was nowhere else to go. Jensen was breathless, speechless. Jared's eyes were crossed as he moaned, "God...never...god...loved...oh...fuck...God..."

Well, Jared had never been one to wax poetic anyway.

Jensen needed several seconds to adjust and then he took a breath. "Move. Go on. Move."

"Yes. All right. Yeah," Jared rasped, and then, move he did. Gently at first, with Jared trying hard not to jostle Jensen beside him.

Jensen used his left hand, grasped the wrought iron headboard of Jared's enormous bed and hissed, "Come on, Jared, ready...set...go!"

That was all Jensen really remembered because then Jared reared up and thrust into Jensen so hard that Jensen had to hang on for dear life. His right arm and had registered the movement with mild complaints, but the overwhelming sensations were not aimed at Jensen's poor shoulder. Jared pounded into Jensen, thrust after thrust until Jared went thick and stiff inside Jensen. Jared straightened his arms, and gasped a breath. Then one, two, three more, and he let loose inside Jensen. As Jensen's body reacted to the pressure of Jared coming inside of him, a large, moist hand snaked around his hips and grasped his cock. Jared applied pressure to the shaft and to the head, while sucking marks into Jensen's neck and back.

After a few more tugs, Jensen released himself into Jared's hand. Into Jared's hand, onto his own belly, and chest, and however it happened, a few pearly drops ended up on Jared's face and neck.

And that? Was the hottest thing Jensen had ever seen.

When his vision cleared, and his breathing settled, Jensen noticed a serious lack of talking. Jared was silent. He was breathing hard, but no words, just a smile on his lips. He pulled out gently, and turned Jensen fully onto his left side carefully, so carefully, like he was afraid Jensen would break if he moved too fast.

Jensen watched from half-mast eyes.

Jared moved around to face him, belly to sweaty belly and slowly grasped Jensen's right wrist.

Jensen stilled when Jared moved Jensen's arm out as far as it would go without causing pain. Jared watched Jensen's face intently for any discomfort as he lifted Jensen's arm, little by little, out to the side. Right at the point where the joint and nerves were thinking about complaining, Jared stopped, slipped his own arm under Jensen's right shoulder, around his waist and pulled him close. Gravity lowered Jensen's arm down around Jared, Jensen's elbow crooked at Jared's hip.

"See?" Jared panted a whisper. "Now you're holding me with both arms."

Why was there a burning sensation behind Jensen's eyes? Why was his heart so full that its beating seemed useless? Jensen floundered until he came to his senses.

He really was an idiot for thinking he could let this man go.

"Jared, you know what I said before about me not needing you?"

"Yeah?" Jared was wary.

"I mean, it's true that maybe I don't _need_ you, but I do want you. I want to try. I want us to try."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do."

"It's because you love me, isn't it?" Jared asked playfully.

"I think so."

Jared blinked a few times and his mouth dropped open. He stroked Jensen's cheek and swallowed. "Yeah? Why do you think so?"

"Because," Jensen took a ragged breath. "Because of you, I have my life back. I mean, I'm going back to school so I can grow things again. I'm going to be pitching to a couple of dogs so I can teach little kids how to throw. You see me, warts and all, and, for some weird reason, you still want me." He paused. "And when I hurt, you make the pain go away. Jared, you gave me back everything I lost."

Jared carefully rolled away from Jensen, and sat up looking down at him. "I know you can't travel around the world with me, and I think I knew that when I first asked you. But I hoped you could because I wondered if I actually could build a life with someone who couldn't share that with me."

"And what was your conclusion?" Jensen asked.

"I thought, the clay alone can't become a vase. There has to be the wheel, the potter's hands, the glaze and the fire. All separate, all different, all working together to make one thing. One beautiful thing that will last through the ages."

"Yeah?"

"That's, you know. Us."

Jensen laughed. "You are a dork."

Jared's eyes glittered, and his voice was low. "You asked me once what I saw in you. You asked me why I even bothered. Well, I'll tell you. You're genuine in a way that I have never known. You put yourself second, all the time. All the time. You stand proud even when the pain's so bad you can hardly breathe." Jared paused and looked at Jensen with awe. "Not only do you put up with me, you put up with me, make me laugh, and put me in my place."

"Jared, you give me too much credit."

"You're wrong." Jared shook his head. "You said I gave you back everything you'd lost. But you—you gave me everything I never had."

Jensen pulled back to look into Jared's eyes.

Jared said, "You ask me what I see in you. When I look at you, I see the future." Jared smiled. "You know I've fallen hard, don't you? In case you don't know it, I'm gone, Jensen. I'm all the way gone. I'll take you however you come. Whatever we need to be, we'll be."

Jensen thought about what he was going to say. The way he figured it, he had two choices, Door Number One: give it a shot with Jared, or Door Number Two: …

"I'm in." Jensen sighed. The battle was over a long time ago, and maybe they both won. "I'm in."

"You're sure, right? Even if there's more...?"

"More magic to make? Other discoveries and secrets to uncover? I'll be the first one up starting the wave. I'm proud of you, Jay, and I'll be waiting right here for you to come back."

"You?" Jared pointed at Jensen's chest. "Are awesome."

Jensen chuckled. "Yeah, maybe."

"Besides," Jared continued excitedly, "You'll be making your own green magic right here at home."

"You better believe it, Indiana."

"Then it's settled."

And maybe it was, Jensen thought. For better or for worse.

"I think I knew when you stood in my classroom doorway that you were it for me." Jared kissed Jensen down into the pillows. "I just thank the heavens that you got the last two numbers wrong when you signed up for ceramics instead or cartooning."

"Is that what happened?" Jensen asked looking up into Jared's face.

"Uh huh." Jared nodded.

"And you could have fixed it with a stroke of your pen?"

"Yessir."

"So why didn't you?"

"You mean after all the twists and turns that fate had to make in order to get you to transpose those last two numbers? You ask me why didn't I fix them?"

"Oh, were you afraid of some kind of bad karma?"

"No. It was because you were cute and nice and I liked you right away, you idiot."

"You know something, Jared? I think you were right. This is the beginning—of the middle—of a beautiful friendship."

"Nope. You're wrong." He leaned in and kissed Jensen thoroughly. "We're smack dab in the _middle_ of the middle."

~~*~~*~~  
**_Epilogue_**  
~~*~~*~~

Three Years Later

_Required reading for students pursuing a doctorate in Anthropological, Sociological, Historical and/or Archeological Studies._

__  
  
**A Treatise on Comparative Cultures and the Fusion of Ancient European Influences into Contemporary New World Societies**  
  


**By Dr. Jared T. Padalecki, BA, MS, PhD, Professor of Archeology**

Department Chair, Archeology Department, Director of Undergraduate Studies, State University at Regency Park

International Liaison, State University at Regency Park/University of Oxford/The Bamburgh Research Project, Northumberland, UK

Director ProTem, Historical Preservation Plan, St. Mary's County, Maryland, USA

 _Dedication_ :  
To Sadie and Harley: Our Baby Girl and Our Big Boy

To Jensen: Still and Always

The Grower of Things.  
My Inspiration.  
My Anchor.  
My Wings.

Abracadabra, babe!

~~*~~*~~ fin~~*~~*~~

"The tragedy of life is not that man loses, but that he almost wins."  
Heywood Broun

**Author's Note:**

> Timestamp to this 'verse here: [A Paradox](http://tcs1121.livejournal.com/13423.html#cutid1)
> 
> If you want a single file, [this .pdf includes Twists and Turns, And No Two Directions Are Ever the Same, and the timestamp, A Paradox.](http://www.mediafire.com/?31lb1di8uvked9e).
> 
> A podfic is available for this series read by [chemm80](http://chemm80.livejournal.com/). She did a wonderful job. I thank her and highly recommend you go to [chemm80's LJ page](http://chemm80.livejournal.com/94867.html) or to her [amplificathon page](http://amplificathon.livejournal.com/906997.html) and download. It's an awesome labor of love at over 4 hours of reading time.
> 
>  
> 
> Links:  
> [Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome Association](http://www.rsdsa.org/index2.html).  
> [American RSD Hope](http://www.rsdhope.org/%20)  
> [The Bamburgh Research Project](http://www.bamburghresearchproject.co.uk/)  
> ["Opening Up the Piece."](http://www.jhpottery.com/tutorial/opening.htm) Pottery Tutorial  
> [The University of Maryland](http://www.umd.edu/) offers degrees in Landscape Architecture and Archeology  
> [American Archaeology Magazine](http://www.americanarchaeology.com/aamagazine.html)  
> [St. Mary's City](http://www.stmaryscity.org/Archaeology.html)


End file.
